The Jellicle Junkyard
by Dark Rose of Heaven
Summary: A chronicle of life in the Junkyard after the Jellicle Ball, full of romance, danger, mystery, drama, and magic. The Summer's End ball is drawing to a close, and Rumpleteazer is finding out how difficult love can be. What's afoot in the Jellicle Junkyard?
1. Rumpleteazer's Pearls

Well, it's been awhile since I've been here, since I'm writing my own stuff instead of fanfictions. What's this you ask? A fanfiction. I've rediscovered my love of CATS the musical, and have been working on an enormous family tree, introducing new characters, and making up little plotlines. This may or may not pan out, but I've decided to put it up anyway as a kind of writing practice apart from my more serious projects. Feel free to critique and leave comments :).

* * *

**Chapter One**

Rumpleteazer had had her eye on those pearls. When Margaret Chamberlain came home with them hanging around her throat, luminous and white and thrilling in the evening damp, she knew immediately they were destined for her own neck. She confided her intentions to her brother later that evening as they settled down on Mr. Chamberlain's fuzzy winter sweater.

"They're the perfect thing for me," she declared rather vainly in her homely Cockney accent. (For the sake of comprehension, I will dictate her words in plain, understandable English.) "And no doubt Maggie will miss 'em sorely."

"They was given 'er by her beau, ya know," Mungojerrie observed, sounding almost stern as he plucked a stray fuzz off his shoulder.

"'Ey, Jerrie! You made a rhyme!" Rumpleteazer crowed, instantly distracted by her brother's unintentional poetic verse.

"Don't play the fool, Teazer. You know Maggie loves 'er lad. She'll be quite distraught, she will, if you go an' pinch 'em."

The tiger queen pouted. "But I wants 'em, Jerrie. They'd be the perfect addition to our lit'l act at the Ball in a few nights."

Mungojerrie's eyebrows rose a few inches. "Ya know, I do think you're right. Bet the others won't be expectin' an extra line about Miss Maggie's Woolworth pearls."

"We'll have t' be quick about it, the Chamberlains are off t' the sea t'morrow," Rumpleteazer confided. "I 'eard from Miss Lyddie's spaniel."

"S'pose they'll be takin' _him_ along," Jerrie groused, digging his claws into the sweater with feeling. "They never take _us_ anywheres special."

"Come t' think of it, they've got good reason," Teazer reminded him.

"True. Alrighty then, when shall we perform our next dastardly act?"

Rumpleteazer's eyes shone with lust for the pearls as she kneaded the worn fabric mightily with her well-groomed claws. "Tonight it'll be. After supper."

* * *

Margaret Chamberlain loved her new pearls. Tommie had given them to her special, when they went to the park. So that evening she primped and preened for dinner a little extra, turning this way and that as she admired their creamy sheen in the mirror. What she didn't notice in her preoccupation was the twitching tail beneath the stool that betrayed Rumpleteazer's presence.

Dinner went well, for once. The cook had employed, with Mr. Chamberlain's permission and blessing, a boy of about nine or ten to stand guard over the oven while the other staffers were busy preparing the other dishes. In this way, the main course was protected from the two stripy thieves residing in Victoria Grove.

After the meal, Mr. Chamberlain called for the port, and his wife and two daughters removed themselves to the drawing room with their female guests, where biscuits and fruit punch were served and playing cards laid out. The head of the family was just getting comfortable with his business companions and a few cigars when an ear-piercing shriek was uttered in the drawing room.

"What is it, what is it? A robber, a bandit, a rat?" the men cried as they rushed to the ladies' aid.

"My pearls!" cried poor Margaret. "Where have they gone?"

* * *

Underneath the floorboards in one of the tiger twins' many hideouts, Rumpleteazer was too absorbed in admiring her newest catch to pay attention to the dramatic sobbing of the eldest Chamberlain. Mungojerrie, however, was not so enraptured, and his tail twitched uncertainly.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea anymore, Teazer," he said slowly. "Miss Maggie sounds quite upset."

"Oh, it served her right, it does," his sister replied without taking her eyes from the string of jewels. "She stepped on my tail last week, on purpose."

"Still…" Mungojerrie scratched his ear and sighed. "Well, it's two more lines to the song I guess."

This caught Rumpleteazer's attention. "Two? What for, we only need one."

"Well, I, er, composed a bit. It's only a little piece of doggerel, but what do you think?" Clearing his throat and shifting his feet nervously, he sang, "And after supper one of the girls, suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls," in a surprisingly rich tenor.

"Oh Jerrie, it's lovely!" Rumpleteazer praised. "Come on, I've got to try these on with a proper mirror."

* * *

To Rumpleteazer's intense pleasure, the pearls were a hit at the annual Jellicle Ball. All the queens, from little Jemima to the voluptuous Bombalurina, were very complimentary. Demeter especially praised Teazer's find.

"They look so nice against your orange and black stripes," Demeter approved when the Ball was over and the cats lay in small groups all over the Junkyard to watch the sun rise. Rumpleteazer was about to thank her graciously when an eruption of hisses and snarls broke out from the other side of the Jellicle haunt. Heads went up everywhere, ears erect and tails bristling in shock as Munkustrap, Alonzo at his heels, bounded forward to the source of the trouble.

* * *

Bombalurina was angry. She had had big plans for this Ball, and that little white snippet of a bigheaded princess had ruined them. Admetus was _hers_. Quiet and angelically handsome, the brown-and-white tom had captured her attention as soon as she had arrived several months ago with Demeter in tow, escaping from Macavity's regime. He was her opposite in many ways, but that didn't bother her. He struck her as a one-queen tom, and that attracted him to her from the beginning.

But something had been brewing under her very nose without her being aware of it. Admetus fancied Victoria – Victoria! That snot-nosed, flat-chested, frou-frou ballerina – and he had danced the Courtship with her. Bomba was seething with anger, and wasn't about to let her dream tom get away without a fight.

Unfortunately, her plans were quickly ruined. Munkustrap, that goody-goody little guardian, was quickly between them, curling back his lips to show his teeth in warning. Bomba was taller than the silver tabby, but knew she was no match for his strength, so she backed down, still hissing. Vickie was shaking like a leaf in Alonzo's grip, startled, but her mouth was slurred by an ugly snarl. Bomba struck out with one hand, claws extended, over Munkustrap's shoulder, but her arm was stopped mid-strike. She whirled around, surprised by the unexpected intervention.

A pair of wide brown eyes stared back into hers, seemingly as taken aback as she was. "S-stoppit," a tiger-striped tom stammered. "There's no call for that. Stop it."

"Mungojerrie's right," Munkustrap said sternly. "That's not how we settle things here. I realize you haven't been here long, but that's no excuse to attack a defenseless princess."

Bomba recovered herself quickly. Shaking her arm from the tiger tom's grip, she straightened her shoulders and looked coolly over Munkustrap's shoulder into Vickie's crystal blue eyes. "Not a princess any more, is she?" With those words she turned her back on Munkus, Vickie, and Alonzo, and brushed past the tiger tom. She ignored Demeter's mortified, "Bomba!" and stalked into the shadows to nurse her wounded pride.

* * *

"Vickie, I'm so sorry for Bomba," Demeter apologized, the first to break the awkward silence. She came up to the white queen and smoothed her stiffed-out mane down in an almost motherly fashion. "Are you okay?"

Victoria nodded in affirmation, finally relaxing with the disappearance of the red queen. "I'm all right. Thank you."

Mungojerrie, suddenly shy at being the center of attention, slunk back to his twin sister's side. "Blimey," he mumbled under his breath.

"Blimey's right!" Rumpleteazer exclaimed as the Jellicles' chatter began filling up the Junkyard again. "Whatever possessed ya t' do that? She coulda taken your head off!"

Mungojerrie shook his striped head in bewilderment. "Blimey!" he said again, and indeed he seemed incapable of saying anything else. But in his head he was replaying the red queen's beautiful face turned for the first time in his direction, and couldn't be prevailed upon for the rest of the night to speak a word.


	2. A New Partnership

I figured I might as well submit the second chapter since it's up. Enjoy :).

* * *

**Chapter Two**

In the heat of the day, Munkustrap lay snoozing beneath the hood of a lorry to escape some of the sun's beating glare. The guts of the vehicle had been torn out, leaving an open space that he made his home away from home with a few old shirts and one of his young master's baby shoes. He slept heavily, wearied from the long night and relaxing in the knowledge that Alonzo, his second in command, had things well in hand.

Munkus wasn't the only Jellicle in the vehicle, though. Through a hole in the floorboards that came out on the inside of the left front tire peeped two hazel eyes topped by two golden ears and a spray of gold and black mane. Demeter was very much awake, and spying on the tom she secretly admired.

"Psst! Deme!"

The gold queen ducked out of the hole and tucked herself against the tire. "Not so loud, Bomba. What's going on?"

The red queen smirked. "Just what I was going to ask you. Doing a little snooping, are we?"

Demeter looked at the ground. "Not really. Just making sure he's all right."

Bombalurina rolled her eyes. "Girl, you've got the hots for him _bad_. Why don't you say something?"

"Oh, I couldn't!" Deme exclaimed, horrified.

"Why not? I saw you two at the Ball last night, getting all cuddly." Bomba's words didn't have the desired effect. Demeter only shrunk deeper into herself.

"I wish we didn't have to sing about Macavity," she whispered.

The red queen's shoulders drooped in defeat. "I wish we didn't either, honey," she said, wrapping her arms around Deme's slender shoulders. "But we have to, so everyone knows how bad he is. No one else has seen the depths of his evil like we have."

"But he _came_, Bomba. He took Old Deuteronomy."

"And Munkustrap protected you," Bomba declared, satisfied at having brought their conversation full circle. "You know, it's only proper you should thank him."

Deme's lips quivered into a smile, and she brushed away a few tears. "How come you're so good at giving love advice if you never follow it yourself?"

Bombalurina stiffened involuntarily. "What do you mean?"

"What was that nonsense, attacking Vickie like that last night? After the best night of her life? You were right of course, when you said she was no longer a princess, but the way you said it was rude, not congratulatory. Do you know _why_ the Courtship is a part of the Jellicle Ball?" Demeter pressed, holding tight to her best friend even as Bomba pulled away. "It's a beautiful thing, something we all share to celebrate _with_ the couple. But you scorned her. Why?"

It was Bomba's turn to look at the ground. "Because I love Admetus."

Deme paused. "Ohh." That brief statement was followed by gentle fingers combing through Bombalurina's thick, luscious red fur. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." The red queen stepped away from her friend's embrace, stoic-faced. "Go on, go talk to Munkus. And don't come out until you've thanked him _properly_."

Demeter blushed. "Go away, Bomba, you're being silly. I'll do it my own way."

"If you say so." With a last wink, the red queen departed for her own lair at the top of a chest of drawers.

Alone, Demeter was suddenly much more hesitant. Slowly she lifted herself up, holding her breath as she peeping into the darkened interior of the lorry. Munkus still appeared to be asleep, curled on his rumpled-up shirts with his back to her and breathing rhythmically. With a surge of courage, she boosted herself up into the dim, warm space and crept to his side.

He rolled over, looking up at her with his bottle-green eyes twinkling. "Hello, Deme."

She wilted instantly. "Sorry. Sorry for bothering you, I'll –"

He caught her wrist gently as she turned away. "Stay awhile. I don't mind." His face was so kind and welcoming that she couldn't stand it, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He rubbed her back with one hand.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He didn't need to ask what for.

* * *

Rumpleteazer was worried about her brother. He wasn't up to their usual games. Instead he moped about the house all day, pacing the halls and never staying in one spot. He would leap up on a chair as if to curl up, but would leap down again the next moment, off in search of a new spot. When she suggested hide-and-seek, he turned away irritably and stalked off. Once he gave her the supreme insult. When she asked if he wanted to chase marbles down the neatly polished, double-story staircase, he sat down purposefully and began licking himself.

She was now thoroughly miserable. The Chamberlains had locked up before setting off that morning, Margaret still upset over the loss of her pearls, with the promise of a cat-sitter every two days. But if Teazer was going to stay inside all the time and watch her brother be miserable, then she was no burglar.

"I'm going to the basement, don't bother to come," she drawled as she walked carelessly past her listless brother, who was on his back in the sun streaming in from the window.

The basement was the tiger twins' favorite spot. It was cool in the summer, with plenty of obstacles and junk piled about in storage. Jerrie jokingly called it their summer home, for they had built a little nest area in a tipped-over cardboard box with Lydia Chamberlain's silk sheets and Mrs. Chamberlain's favorite pincushion. Rumpleteazer scorned the box now, however, leaping instead onto the broken pool table and changing into her humanoid shape to clamber up onto the sill of their escape window. One of the hinges was broken, and it was a simple matter to push one corner and slip out into the warm spring evening.

"Croikey, I do love bein' a Jellicle," Teazer whispered to herself, rolling about in the garden dirt in delight. With a few sniffs to make sure the neighbor's Peke wasn't about, Teazer returned to cat shape for the trip across town and leaped onto the fence.

Rumpleteazer hated Pekes, especially the one next door. Pekes weren't like Pollicles, who could change shape and converse like proper, polite folk, nor even like Poms, who understood what you were saying but were generally too lazy to answer back. Pekes yapped and yipped and attacked viciously, without the sense of fun that Pollicles had when they chased you down the street, laughing uproariously. Even Pugs were better, though they had a tendency to lose their heads and bite first and ask questions later. But Pekes… Rumpleteazer shuddered. She could only be glad that Miss Lyddie's spaniel Roger was a Pom, and not prone to overexcitement.

The trip to the Junkyard was fairly quick today, because Jerrie wasn't lagging and dragging and pouncing at shadows like he usually did when they went together. Of the two of them, Teazer decided, Jerrie was definitely the more kittenish one. She reflected with half-daydreamy pleasure on her Courtship last year. She hadn't been very keen on taking a mate yet – then again, what princess was at that age? – but enjoyed the attention she got from the toms, especially Pouncival and Alonzo. Tugger had tried a few passes, but he irritated her with his hip-swinging and egotistical attitude, so she sent him packing pretty quick. It's true, Pounce hadn't been much older than she was, but he was very nice and equally disinterested in a prolonged attachment. They were both just testing the waters, so to speak. Just like Victoria had been the night before.

Rumpleteazer wondered again at her brother's interference with the queen-fight. He wasn't one to act the hero – in fact, he was often pretty cowardly – but something had made him step up and keep Bomba and Vickie from doing each other further harm. Inside, Teazer had a few intuitional theories about her brother and his not-so-hidden interest in the voluptuous red queen, and she intended to scope out the situation tonight while Mungojerrie wouldn't be around to witness her plans in action.

* * *

Climbing onto the top of his metal abode, Munkustrap turned his face into the fresh evening breeze and breathed deeply. Before him, visible through the small hole produced by the dent in the hood, Demeter stirred sleepily in the pile of shirts. Munkus shivered in satisfaction and anticipation. They weren't mates yet, but he intended to make her his one of these days and seal the deal for good.

Crouching on the top of the lorry, the silver and black tabby surveyed the Junkyard critically. Nothing seemed to have gone amiss in his absence, which was good. Alonzo acknowledged him from across the way, slipping off an old kitchen chair and slinking away to hunt. His cousin, Tumblebrutus, emerged wild-maned from Demeter's customary pipe, looking a little out of it as he shook off sleep. In the center of the little clearing the Jellicles had made their home generations ago, Etcetera played lazily with a shoestring, watched over protectively by her older companion Electra. Those two were still an enigma to Munkustrap. Etcetera seemed ditzy and only partially "all there," and yet she had a certain insight that seemed out of place on her babyish face. Electra was exactly her opposite, razor sharp and reclusive, and yet they got along perfectly together. No one knew exactly what had happened to bring them to the Junkyard – Etcetera didn't seem to understand when she was asked, and Electra lied outright – but somehow they had found a place in the hearts of all the Jellicles.

Skimbleshanks was awakening also, emerging from a microwave with his mate Jellylorum following. They were a unique pair, not prone to showing affection in public. They had become mates later in life, and neither were expecting any offspring to result from their union; yet Munkus had heard through the grapevine that Jellylorum was expecting, despite their age. Another surprising romance had developed recently, though according to Junkyard gossip it was still in the early stages. The vivacious, outgoing Rum Tum Tugger was showing an interest in the more enigmatic Cassandra. This was a disappointment to the younger princesses, especially Etcetera and Jemima, but Munkus was sure they would find a new "king tom" soon.

Munkustrap's musings were interrupted by the emergence of Demeter, who joined him on the top of the lorry and curled up at his side. Munkus brushed a kiss across the top of her head.

"Sleep well?"

She nodded, pressing her face into his shoulder shyly.

"Me_ow_!" came a call from across the Junkyard. Munkustrap looked up and flashed Tugger a warning look. The Maine Coone tom held up his hands in surrender and slinked across the floor to impress Cassie.

* * *

Bomba languished in the shade of a burnt-out oven, avoiding both the evening heat and the gazes of curious Jellicles. Her own eyes were pinned on the silver and gold couple cuddling on the top of the lorry across the square. Munkus was alert and watchful as ever, but it was easy to see the preoccupation that hung beneath his usual serious demeanor. The reason for that preoccupation could only be Demeter, cuddled up against his side and trying not to stare at him too much. A small smile curved Bombalurina's red lips. Her younger friend was obviously smitten, and it looked like the Jellicle guardian reciprocated the affection. All was going well in _that_ department.

The red queen examined her claws, checking for any flaws almost like a human female would check her nails. The one thing she disagreed with in the time-old rhyme _The Naming of Cats_ was its declaration that the reason for a cat's hours-on-end contemplation was that it was pondering its own, secret name. For Bomba this was only partially true. Her other passion was plotting, especially plotting the happiness of the people she loved. Demeter was obviously at the top of that list. Better yet, it looked like Bomba's plan was succeeding. Almost as soon as the two queens had arrived at the Junkyard, Bomba knew Munkustrap's protective, caring nature would be perfect for her skittish, timid friend. Now that they were well on the way to their happily ever after, it was time for her to turn to her next project – herself.

Just as she was beginning to lay out the basics of her latest scheme, Bomba's unfocused eyes caught a glimpse of orange and black. Blinking rapidly, she realized she was staring directly into the face of a tiger queen identical to the tom that had stopped her last night. Mind racing, she tried to recall her name. Rum... Tease... Rumpled...

"It's Rumpleteazer," the queen announced in a bordering-on-painful Cockney accent.

"I was getting there," Bomba replied, a little bit irritated at getting interrupted in the middle of plotting. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothin' much," the other queen replied, settling down beside her and irritating her further. She didn't want any company at the moment. "I just hear we have something in common."

"And what would that be?" Bomba asked bluntly.

Rumpleteazer turned and stared at her again, unnervingly similar to the honest gaze of the tiger tom. "A scheming mind."

For the first time, Bomba was interested. She sat up, dusting off her gleaming scarlet coat. "What did you have in mind?"

Teazer smirked. "I also understand you're in the romance business. Care for a partner?"


	3. The Mystery Cat

**Greetings all! Here is chapter three, in which we get a little glimpse into Macavity's domain and meet some not-so-new characters. Thank you TsunaNarik for your kind review :). WARNING: there is some mention of Macavity's harem and a description of how it works and relates to the rest of his empire. There is nothing sexually explicit or indecent, I don't write that kind of stuff, but take warning if you dislike/disapprove of mild adult themes. Also, in my defense, there is a reason this is rated T (teen). There are some mild adult themes. Macavity _is_ evil in this story, but I'm not going to skirt around the subject of his harem. You have to display the good with the bad so the good can be more easily seen. Thank you.  
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* * *

Chapter Three**

In the days following the Jellicle Ball, it was not uncommon to see Bomba and Teazer together, heads bent in close conjunction as they conversed. It was an unusual sight, and one that was noticed especially by the other pair of twins in the Junkyard: Tantomile and Coricopat, the mystics.

"Something's afoot," Tantomile remarked to her brother as they lounged beneath a garbage lid atop a pile of junk, observing the courtyard through heavy-lidded eyes. Coricopat was paying only half attention, however, his mind sunk in the sun-induced daze that often affects cats during the daytime, and the only sign that he had heard his sister was the twitch of one white paw.

"Cori, I said something's afoot," she repeated, a little bit irritated. Her brother was the less serious of the two, and often annoyed her. This was one of those instances. "Are you totally brain-dead, or are you just deaf?"

"A little brain-dead, I should think," her twin replied smarmily, finally waking up. "What is afoot?"

"Something. Bombalurina and Rumpleteazer are in cahoots."

Coricopat finally perked up. "Well, that is something you do not see everyday."

Tantomile rolled her eyes. "Really Cori, sometimes I worry about you."

"And sometimes I worry about you, too," Coricopat said sincerely, looking at her with wide, unblinking yellow eyes.

Tantomile frowned, trying to avoid her twin's penetrating stare. "What are you talking about?"

"You have been dreaming." A statement, not a question. Coricopat's fully phrased sentence laid bare his sister's heart, and she returned his gaze contritely.

"I'm sorry, Cori. I have been hiding something from you."

"You cannot hide anything from me," he returned mildly. "I have only been biding my time. What is troubling you?"

"I have been having the same dream every night ever since the Jellicle Ball," Tantomile confessed. "And… it is making me lonely."

"How can you be lonely?" It was a sensible question. The Mystic Twins shared a very special emotional and mental bond, and in times of stress or intense feeling, they were capable of communicating telepathically. In short, they were never apart, though they might be across the world from one another. So Tantomile's admission was of great confusion to her brother.

"I don't know." Tantomile looked at her white paws and frowned. "But I'm going to find out."

* * *

Jemima was quite a busy little bee. Skimbleshanks – the "uncle" of all the kittens – often called her that as she bounced from project to project. Her favorite hobby at the moment was helping Jennyanydots teach the mice in her basement to knit every Wednesday and Friday. But today was the Monday, and she was feeling restless. She lounged in the sun, twitching as she watched Pouncival, Plato, and Tumblebrutus play monkey in the middle with a bottle cap. Alonzo, the oldest of the four "tweener" toms, sat to one side with a mixture of disdain and longing on his face as he tried to decide whether it was worth it to join them or not. Jemima huffed to herself. In her opinion, Alonzo was too concerned with his appearance as second-in-command to Munkustrap. She would probably like him better if he would just loosen up.

A stray leap by Pouncival suddenly sent the bottle cap in her direction, and she just barely missed getting out of its way in time. It bonked off her nose and went skidding off towards the now-deserted tire. Plato and Tumblebrutus knocked her ears-over-tail in their haste to get it, leaving her sprawled in the middle of the dirt.

"Sorry Jemmi!" Plato called over his shoulder, but she was so dazed she barely heard it. A white and brown face appeared above her, spiky eyebrows wrinkled in concern.

"Are you okay? They hit you pretty hard."

Jemima shook her head to clear it, sitting up with Pouncival's help. "I'm fine, just a little loopy."

"You seem out of it. Maybe you should sit still for a while."

"Okay… thanks," she said, a little surprised at the normally impish tom's courtesy as he led her to Demeter's old pipe and helped her settle comfortably in its shade.

He paused, looking at her for a moment with an unfathomable expression, and then took off calling, "I'll be right back!" over his shoulder. Puzzled and a little flattered, Jemima settled down to wait his return.

* * *

"Aw, they look so cute together… ouch!"

"Will you shut up? Hellcats don't use words like 'cute,' Thornpaw."

The rather slow Thornpaw rubbed his shoulder ruefully where his companion had cuffed him. "Sorry, Shad."

The other tom growled softly under his breath. "That's General Shadowheart to _you_. Now come on, we might as well find some grub before we go report to Macavity."

"Grub? Now you're talking!" Thornpaw rejoiced, following his superior from their hiding place above the Junkyard and into town.

* * *

Moonface was famous among Macavity's elite Hellcats for his superior espionage skills. He had traveled all over the country on mysterious assignments, often resulting in an assassination or – at the very least – information. Information that got him the best food, the best private room in the barracks, and the pick of Macavity's illustrious and infamous harem any night he chose. Needless to say he was very much envied amongst the Hellcats as well as famous. What made him even more legendary, however, was the fact that he was not a Hellcat himself. He was a mercenary, and everyone knew Macavity almost never hired out for mercenaries. And if he did, they certainly weren't treated like Moonface was.

The Hellcat barracks weren't the only places where his name was whispered with a combination of awe and fear. Macavity's harem was a complex, almost hierarchal organization of queens and princesses used both for sexual purposes among Macavity and his higher-ups and a unique level of administration in Macavity's empire. At the top was Macavity's sister, Labyrinth, a sly and sharp-witted queen renowned for her physical "arts" and her ruthless political skills. She had several handmaidens to her name, twenty in fact, that served as her advisors and were required to be greatly skilled in dancing and seduction. It was from this group of queens that Moonface often selected his company, for they were the most elite in the entire harem.

Still, his name was spoken even lower in the pecking order, both hopefully and fearfully by teen princesses receiving their final instruction in their "occupation." From their mouths to the ears of the oldest kittens word of Moonface traveled: word of his strange countenance and his lovemaking prowess as well as his gentlemanly manner and the rumors of all the terrible crimes he had committed in Macavity's name.

The strangest thing about Macavity's top hit cat was that no one knew exactly how old he was. Labyrinth herself could not say how old he might have been when he first took her to bed as a princess barely out of her kitten years. All anyone knew for sure about him was that he was handsome, mysterious, and dangerous beyond a doubt.

* * *

A white princess – nearly a queen – stood erect, her slender form glowing faintly as sharp golden eyes observed her from the shadows. Damascus was eight summers old, and had matured beautifully from her unruly kitten self into a stunning Jellicle, worthy perhaps of Macavity himself. Such were the thoughts running through Labyrinth's mind as she gave Damascus a visual rundown. She had heard good things about this princess from several of her handmaidens. Perhaps it was time to give one of them the boot and promote her.

"Well, miss, you have excellent proportions and a gift for dance," Labyrinth drawled, hopping down from her throne and pacing around the stock-still princess for a three-dimensional view. "I'm not promising anything, but I'll speak to my brother about a promotion. What do you say?"

This was a crucial moment in the interview, though no princess knew it. But Damascus responded exactly as was expected of her. Lowering her eyes slightly to indicate submission, she sank into a pose of compliance and said, "Thank you, my Lady. You are most kind."

Labyrinth smirked inwardly to herself. _Perfect_.

* * *

**And fin. I know this chapter's a little risque - at least, it is for me - but rest assured I don't write sex scenes or any of that crap. This is about as "dirty" as it gets. Thanks for reading, please review and tell me what you think! -DR**


	4. The Witch Cat's Disappearance

**Here's chapter four, sorry for the delay. I've had the flu :(. Chapter Five should be up shortly.**

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* * *

Chapter Four**

Munkustrap lazed on his family's front porch, his entire body exuding comfort. His eyes, however, told a different story. Half-covered by his eyelids, they watched the entire street fiercely, keeping watch with vigorous concentration. The reason for this intensity could be seen in the two black cats walking innocently up the walk across the road. _Too_ innocently, in Munkustrap's mind. He didn't know many black cats who weren't in Macavity's service, and he wasn't about to give these two the benefit of the doubt. For all he knew they could be a pair of Hellcats on patrol, and to let down his guard could mean abduction or, at the least, a sound beating.

Through half-closed lids, Munkustrap watched as the two cats – both toms, increasing his suspicion – reached the point across from him and sat down as one. They licked their paws surreptitiously. Munkus' tail suddenly gave a violent twitch, and he sat upright in alarm as a black cat leapt from the porch railing next to him.

"Cori! Don't do that, you nearly frightened the life out of me," he complained, working to smooth down his puffed-out fur. The other tom smiled serenely.

"Would that have anything to do with the two Hellcats sitting just across the way?"

Munkus eyed him while simultaneously trying to keep the two black toms in his sights. "How do you know they're Hellcats?"

Coricopat's lips curled back. "I have been following them for two blocks listening to their perverted chatter. Horrible, horrible creatures. If I was not such a pacifist I would dispatch of them myself."

"Did you get their names? Perhaps then Misto can keep tabs on them…" Munkustrap trailed off as Cori shook his head.

"No. They called each other… vile names, code names I am certain. No mother would name her kit something like _that_."

Munkus looked doubtful. "If you say so…"

"Listen; there is another reason why I came to you today. I cannot find Tantomile."

"_What_?!" Munkustrap yowled in shock. That was something unheard of. The Twins always had contact with one another.

"Keep your voice down," Cori hissed, leaning closer to speak in his friend's ear. "The other day she told me she was having strange dreams. Dreams about walking down a gray street and feeling lonely. She was very vague when she told me – all she said was that she was going to find out their meaning. And now she's gone."

"How long has she been…missing?" The silver tabby gulped. Missing was never a word that could be used to describe either of the Twins. Not only were they smart, they had extra senses that could keep them from danger. "Have you told anyone else?"

"I felt a distinct cutting-off about ten minutes ago, when she went out to see if the new bookstore around the corner from our family's house is open yet or not. Apparently it advertises Tarot and things like that. I do not follow human branches of magic, but she finds them interesting and sometimes reads up on them. And no, I have not told anyone else. I came directly here."

Munkustrap thought fast. "Contact Misto, maybe he can find her telepathically. Is he at the Junkyard?"

"Let me see…" Coricopat closed his eyes and frowned. "Yes."

"Tell him to ask everyone if they've seen her today." While Coricopat worked his magic, Munkus looked again at the two toms across his street. He leaped to his feet – they were no longer there."

"Cori, they've gone," he said as soon as the other tom opened his eyes.

"Misto suggested the Hellcats might have something to do with it," Cori gritted out through his teeth. "He said he felt the disconnection too, since she is his primary instructor, but that he followed the string as it broke and withdrew – forgive me, I am using a magician's terminology. What is important is that he caught a glimpse of two toms, one dark gray with black rosettes and the other all black with a quarter moon on his face."

"Did he see Tantomile?"

"He saw parts of her – he was looking through her eyes, you see, and so saw her point of view."

"Well, they won't be the cats we just saw, but we should follow them in any case."

"Agreed. Let me lead, I know how to trail them so we aren't caught." With a leap and a bound, Cori was off the porch and across the street, sniffing the place where they were. Munkustrap followed, and soon they were on the trail of Macavity's Hellcats.

* * *

Macavity had two main goals in life: exploitation and luxury. Naturally, one led to the other, creating a nice harmonious sphere. It was only one of many parts in his life that came together to create a whole, each part in accord with the other. The fiery Himalayan was a disciple of Dao Nghiem, a Vietnamese Jellicle who was the leader of a small Asian cult centering on the harmony of life. The fact that Macavity was so enamored with this sect pointed directly to his insanity; for what Jellicle so obsessed with death and destruction could follow such a way of life and not feel some remorse? And indeed, Macavity felt none.

Macavity's second goal was the one he was fulfilling right now as he lazed in his enormous four-poster bed. It had once belonged to the previous owner of the mansion he had commandeered as his headquarters. Now it was his, and had seen many a queen or princess come and go. Tonight, however, Macavity was not planning on entertaining in that way.

A brief sound was heard through the richly paneled door, and it opened to admit his sister. Labyrinth was a stunning queen, and even Macavity could not fail to notice it. Her fur was long and lustrous in both forms, as red as cherries and laced with threads of gold that looked to have come from the spools of Rumpelstiltskin himself. Sharp points of black emerged from her brows and, elongated, went to her hairline where they became long locks of midnight framing her face. Not to mention her figure, which could have outdone an hourglass twenty times out of twenty.

"You're late," Macavity remarked in his startling Brooklyn drawl. American born and bred, he took pride in his heritage and even went so far as to overdo the already thick accent. "That's not like you, Abby."

Labyrinth leaped up onto the bed and gave him a sisterly kiss. "Good afternoon to you as well, brother. Your devotion to me is so touching." Unlike her brother, Labyrinth's flawless accent was distinctly upper-class and British, with enunciation so crisp she could have cut through steel just by speaking. Her sarcasm made Macavity wince.

"I trust you have good news for me."

"On the contrary, brother, I have _excellent_ news." A purr rumbled delicately in her chest at the very thought, and Macavity had to remind her not to knead the silk pillows. "Shadowheart and Eclipse have caught the witch cat, and she awaits your pleasure in her cell. But I did not come to speak of that."

"What then? Is there another plot brewing that I am not aware of?"

"It concerns your marital state."

Macavity snorted. "Or lack thereof. Come come, what need have I for a formal mate? That's why I – you, that is – have built such an extensive harem."

Labyrinth looked at him sternly. "That is most certainly _not_ the reason. There is a difference between one night stands and a political partner."

"Don't be foolish, Abby. _You_ are my political partner."

"I am your sister. You need someone with whom you can share your deepest and most intimate thoughts with. You need someone who can be your lover _and_ your confidante. Someone who will know the workings of your inner mind down to the last cog. We may work well together, brother dear, but there are things about you even I cannot fathom, and thus our partnership is limited. The possible extent of your _empire_ is limited."

Macavity felt a pricking in his mind, a sign his sister was making sense. "Let me guess. You have a suggestion."

"A new recruit in my inner circle. She has proved to be remarkably devious, already working herself up to Twelfth handmaiden in two days."

His multicolored brows rose substantially, a rare occurrence for the devious mastermind. "Twelfth? Out of your entire twenty? That indeed shows promise."

"I told you so, didn't I?" Labyrinth asked irritably. "The only step that remains is to either wait for her to make it to the top or simply take her as your mate now."

There was a brief silence following her statement in which Macavity hypocritically kneaded the pillows himself, deep in thought. Labyrinth let it slide, too intent on the decision he was contemplating. After a solid five minutes, he relaxed.

"All right. You have made an excellent case, sister, and I will accept on one condition."

"Which is…?"

"I wish to see and evaluate her for myself."

Labyrinth barely kept from rolling her eyes. "Of course, brother. As you wish."

* * *

Skimbleshanks was renowned for his olfactory prowess. His nose was far stronger than any ordinary Jellicle, causing him to be the forerunner in many a search for a lost kitten. For this reason he joined the black and white Mistoffelees in the primary search for the missing Tantomile.

The railway cat began where Munkustrap and Coricopat had lost the trail of the Hellcats. Munkus had gone to regroup some other Jellicles, but the Mystic remained at the alley entrance, pacing the spot where the Hellcats had disappeared. Neither tom spoke a word – Skimble simply lifted his nose to the air and breathed in deeply.

The stink of Hellcat was faint, but there. It lingered in the air like an oil stain on the tracks. Swiveling his head, the golden tabby tried to pinpoint the place where the vague whiff was strongest. Coricopat backed out of the way as Skimbleshanks walked in his direction with eyes closed and passed him farther into the alleyway. Then, just as suddenly as he had got the scent, he lost it.

Going to the brick wall of the French-style café on one side of the alley, the railway cat put his feline paws on the rough surface so that he was standing upright on his hind legs as though he were in humanoid form. He breathed in deeply, and was rewarded by the return of the scent.

"They went up," he told the still-pacing Coricopat, falling back onto all four legs. "Let's get up on the roof and see what we can find."

Without further discourse, the two toms raced around the back of the building to the fire escape, avoiding the attention of an enormous golden-furred Pollicle lazing in the sun on the back stoop of the café. Chances were it wouldn't bother them, being civilized like themselves, but they were in too much of a hurry and that particular breed tended to get overexcited and talkative.

The roof was flat, with various air vents and electrical attachments protruding from the bland concrete. A door over to the right was shut tightly, not due to be used until the next utility check. After pausing briefly to make sure there was no one about – human or Jellicle – Skimble led the way onto the roof. After a few minutes of careful exploring, sure enough they found a basket hooked cleverly up to a pulley that would allow quick and unnoticed transport up the face of the building from the alley.

"Well that's fishy," Skimble remarked. He was speaking to empty air. Coricopat was already scanning the roof, nose to the ground as he sniffed out the culprits.

"I smell my sister here. They must have carried her then put her in the basket unconscious."

"Was her unconsciousness the fact that you felt the connection between you break?" Skimbleshanks wanted to know.

"No. That is what troubles me. When we sleep, our subconscious is one, and we can feel each other even more closely than when we are awake. I – I have never experienced this before. I do not like it."

Skimbleshanks was _extremely_ worried now. He had faith in his own ability to find her, but if Coricopat was this distressed it might be necessary to find her within hours, not days.

* * *

**Fin, for now. :)**


	5. Magic Thief

**Here's chapter 5 folks. :) Enjoy. Thank you to **TsunaNarik, musicgal3, and jelliclesoul635 **for reviewing! Note: one or two-word reviews will be deleted. -DR**

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Chapter Five**

The Junkyard was in a state of lockdown, firmly enforced by the matrons Jellylorum and Jennyanydots. All the adult Jellicles were off searching for Tantomile, leaving the tweener kittens and teenagers behind to alternately sulk and amuse themselves by causing havoc. Pouncival and Tumblebrutus especially were causing problems, scattering junk everywhere as they played and then lost interest, and returned to play again. Etcetera was moping inside the tire and refused to come out, because Mistoffelees had been allowed to go searching while she had not. Jemima's sweet little soul was tugging this way and that as she debated the joys of playing and the kindness of keeping her companions under control. All in all, the Junkyard was not a very happy place.

"Tumblebrutus, you rip! Come over here this instant, you know better than that," Jellylorum shouted over the din Pouncival, Tumblebrutus, and Electra were making as they banged noisily on various pots and pans they had found behind the oven. "You should be setting an example!"

Jemima scrunched up her eyes and covered her ears, trying to block out the sound of the three troublemakers arguing without success. Finally she bounded over to Jennyanydots, who was standing by to assist her friend with punishment.

"Please, Jenny, may I go and visit the Oldest Inhabitant? I can't stand this racket any longer, and it's not far."

The Gumbie cat sighed. "Very well, very well dear. I know you'll be careful. You're so much more mature than these other hooligans." Relieved, Jemima sprang away, leaping through the piles of cast-off items and leaving the unsettled Junkyard behind her.

* * *

The Oldest Inhabitant was a good friend to all the Jellicles, an elderly man who was the caretaker of a little crumbling church that was being left to rot as a national landmark. No one really knew what that meant. All they knew was that the Oldest Inhabitant – their fond nickname for the old gentleman – was a loving fellow who always had a few extra cups of cream to hand out or a tuna can to lick.

Jemima liked to think, somewhere in the depths of her innocent heart, that she was the Oldest Inhabitant's favorite. Many of the younger Junkyard cats visited him often, but the old man never failed to pick her up and rub her ears in just the right spot or give her a brushing when the others had left. For this reason she loved him dearly, enough to let him put a collar on her and call her Ellie.

Just as she suspected, the Oldest Inhabitant was snoozing lightly in the sun on an old wooden chair, a half-empty mug of tea by his wrinkled hand. With a dainty leap, Jemima boosted herself up onto his lap and curled up there. Settled on the warmth of his worn overalls, she was quick to fall asleep.

There was another someone there who was not asleep, however. Pouncival, after a sound scolding by Jelly, had crept out of the Junkyard to follow Jemima. It was only simple curiosity, he told himself as he crouched, kettle-like, in the long grass by the caretaker's cottage. But deep inside he knew it was something more, and the whiskers on his face were spread in a little smile as he watched the black and russet princess slumber.

* * *

Tantomile was in the dark. She sat cross-legged on the floor with her back erect and her shoulders relaxed, hands limp on her knees in a meditative pose. Her eyes were closed, but all her other senses were alive and probing her prison.

The moment she had felt the cut that separated her from her brother, Tantomile had shut down mentally and magically, with only a thin thread connecting her to the physical world. Her logic, she knew, was sound. The four Hellcat toms that had herded her in the alleyway were far too powerful for her to overcome without help. Her connection with her brother was gone, and with it much of her magic. Until she found out what had happened and where she was, she would simply have to wait it out.

She had been waiting a long time. Hours had passed since her initial kidnapping, and her patience was beginning to wear thin. She wanted to _know_ things, and knowledge had always been at her fingertips. Now she knew nothing, and was powerless. The silence was pressing on her ears, without even the drip of water or the scuttle of bugs to alleviate the thick hush.

An entire day must have passed before Tantomile caved. Outwardly the witch cat made no movement, and there was no change to the set of her face, but inwardly her mind was at work. Drawing out a little of the orange fire that inhabited her subconscious, she sent out little tendrils into the air around her. Her impatience proved her downfall. Almost as soon as the glowing threads of magic spread out into the darkness, they were seized by something far greater and jerked viciously, like an ogre yanking a little girl's hair. Tantomile screamed as the magic was ripped from her body by force, leaving not so much a spark behind, and collapsed on the ground unconscious.

* * *

Several blocks away, Coricopat opened his mouth a yowled in pain as a distant knife cut deep. Munkustrap and Mistoffelees leaped away from him, hair standing on end as he writhed briefly in the throes of something they could not see.

"Tantomile, it is Tantomile!" he gasped when, in the dungeon, his sister's mind shut itself down and he was released. "I felt her for a moment, they were torturing her."

"What were they doing?" Mistoffelees asked, though his grim expression told Munkus that he already had a good idea.

"Her magic. They have taken all of her magic." Coricopat and his apprentice shuddered as one.

"Can she get it back?" Munkustrap wanted to know.

"It depends. Come on, I think I can find her now." Cori leaped up and sped away, leaving the two other toms to follow.

"Depends on what?" Munkus asked the tuxedo tom in a low voice as they leaped after Coricopat.

"On whether they left a few sparks or not."

* * *

Macavity squatted by the window, gazing curiously at the small orange flames dancing in the palm of his hand. Little tendrils whirled and leaped, curling like living vines about his fingers and stretching beyond his extended claws as they tried to return to their mistress. But Macavity's hold on them was too strong. Whenever the little flames got too rambunctious, he would subdue them with a flare of blood red fire.

Macavity prided himself on being an extensively knowledgeable magician. He had been born with a good deal of magic, but always thirsted for more. Not just any magic would do, however. His obsession was the magic of prophecy, which was very rare and only occurred between twins: a shared gift. That was why he himself did not possess such sorcery, and it also made it very difficult for him to capture a Jellicle who _did_ possess it. Mystic twins tended to be very highly attuned to one another, and were almost never apart. His Hellcats had been shadowing the twins Tantomile and Coricopat for several months, however, and it had finally paid off.

Not only was he a magician, Macavity was also entirely heartless. He had considered placing Tantomile in his harem by force, but that would only bring her twin after her. Better to give her to his top Hellcats as a reward and then dump the body somewhere the junkyard Jellicles would find it.

"You have a pensive look about you." The sultry purr came from the enormous four-poster in the middle of the room, and Macavity had not been expecting it. Snapping his fingers closed, he finished playing with his prey and consumed it with red fire before turning to the one who had made the comment.

His sister had been right, as usual. The princess she had suggested, Damascus, was magnificently beautiful – even more so than his old lover, Griddlebone, if it were possible – and had a mind of steel. She was a purebred Cornish Rex, rare among Jellicles, with snow white fur that curled luxuriously about her shoulders and against her neck. Vibrant red rosettes gloved her arms and legs, and the same rose-red color splashed her lower mane, tail, and back. Tiny scarlet flower-shapes blossomed on her face, and her eyes were the color of a cloudless sky. Macavity was almost fond of her, something very uncommon in the hard-hearted tom. He wasn't concerned, however. Eventually, perhaps when he had ensured an heir or two, she would find her way into another tom's bed and he could dispose of her.

"My dear, I am pensive by nature," he said, clearing the gap from the windowsill to the bed in one fluid leap. "You mustn't let it bother you."

Damascus leaned forward, her eyelids brushing his cheek like the touch of a butterfly's wings as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. "If you say so… my love."

* * *

Cassandra languished in a peculiar spot, one that only a Jellicle could fit in, let alone relax in. An old wire bed frame was propped at an angle to the ground, piled on top with and supported on the bottom by various pieces of castoff items. At the head of the bed there was gathered several cupboards arranged perpendicular to the frame, and filled with pillows to soften the sharp angles. It was a rather upside-down-and-sideways spot, and yet she found it strangely comfortable. One of the reasons for this was probably the black and gold Maine Coon tom sprawled beneath her in sleep.

She was not a queen prone to "settling" when it came to lovers, but she knew that that's what everyone would think. The Rum Tum Tugger was not well-known for his maturity or his ability to get along well with others. In many ways, he was still a kitten: his half-brother Munkustrap's opposite. But Cassandra had always found herself strangely attracted to him. Now, in the soft, muffled darkness of the cupboards, she leaned close to his face, running her fingertips lightly down his nose and across his mouth. In sleep he was so much sweeter. There were no airs or pretenses, no suggestive smile or bipolar attitude. Instead he managed to appear both childlike and adult, with pouting lips she longed to kiss and a slight frown that varied as he dreamed. Cassandra sighed quietly and laid her head on his muscular chest. Someday she might have to pay for this affair with heartbreak, but for now all the future pain was worth it.

* * *

Shadowheart was troubled. He had never been fond of Macavity's habit of handing out victims to his generals after he had used them for his own devious purposes to be violated and then murdered as the higher-up Hellcats saw fit. He himself rarely participated. His father, though a mercenary, had brought him up with a sense of honor and dignity in the humanity of the Jellicle soul, and Shadowheart took no delight in depriving Macavity's castoff victims of that soul. Tonight, however, it seemed he would have no choice. Instead of his customary hang-back-and-let-the-others-have-their-fun strategy, Shadowheart was going to have to do all the dirty work himself, because Macavity had decided to "reward him" by giving him the sole privilege of dehumanizing whatever poor Jellicle queen was in store.

Macavity had effectively revamped the basement of his castle-like abode into a network of cells and barracks. As Shadowheart walked as slowly as possible down the stairs, he passed several new recruits, all of which threw him brisk salutes. This only brought his morale down more, though he hid it well. His life in Macavity's service was starting to get old, but he knew retirement was out of the question. As far as generals went, he was still fairly young, and had a full and bloody career ahead of him.

"If only I could die conveniently in battle one of these days," he whispered under his breath. As soon as the words escaped his lips he looked up, ears flicking wildly as he stood poised at the entrance of his victim's cell. There was no one there. Still, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of warning as unlocked the door and left the seemingly empty hallway. You couldn't be caught contemplating suicide here – it was treason.

Shadowheart blinked as his eyes automatically adjusted to the darkness of the cell. It was an awful place, one reserved for the most dangerous of captives. The bundle sprawled in the middle of the room didn't look very dangerous to him, however. Closing he door behind him to prevent interruption, he approached the unconscious Jellicle with care.

It was a queen, only a couple of months out of her princess stage, with striking facial markings that frightened him a little. Still, in sleep, she had a vulnerable look about her. In the darkness he could barely make out her vague stripes and hatching, black and white separated by reddish orange that looked like blood. He stepped back a little and took her entire body in. It looked as though she had been knocked over and left to lie, with her legs beneath her awkwardly and a small cut above her eye. She was very lean, almost with a gymnast's look about her, her narrow ribcage showing beneath petite breasts and slender shoulders topped with multicolored feather-like fur. A trail of white down her throat and belly glowed white in the dark.

Shadowheart looked away, trying not to let a snarl escape him. Now more than ever his heart despised his master and the horrific things he was capable of. He had no idea what this poor queen had suffered, but from what he could tell it was mental rather than physical. Helplessness swept over him like a wave, choking reason and thought. This Jellicle was only one of many to be taken by Macavity and destroyed, but for some reason Shadowheart felt a keener sense of loss for this life he was commanded to ruin. But what could he do? One wrong step and he would be dispatched, like so many other Hellcats, most likely following a long and horrible month of torture.

While he debated, the queen stirred. He crouched beside her immediately and took her hand almost without thinking.

"Cori…?" The word was croaked out between cracked lips, a shadow of a voice that Shadowheart knew must have been lovely.

"My name is Shadowheart," he told her gently. "What's yours?"

Slowly the queen sat up, wide golden eyes bewildered and afraid. "I am called Tantomile." It seemed to hurt her to speak, so he didn't press her any further. He simply sat beside her and marveled at the strength of her hand as she squeezed his methodically, deep in thought.

"Where am I?" she asked at last.

"In the cellar of 666 Dragon Boulevard," he said, reluctant to divulge this information. It was obvious she knew what he was speaking of, for she immediately pulled her hand from his and dragged herself a few feet away before collapsing again. "Tantomile…" he held out his hands to show her he meant no harm. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're a Hellcat," she rasped. "Don't try and deny it."

"All right. I won't," he shrugged.

She stopped short, obviously not expecting his open confession. "I don't understand. Hellcats take great joy in causing pain in others."

He merely watched her. How could he make her understand that they could be being watched at that very moment? Shadowheart knew for a fact that most of the cells had ways of spying into so that Macavity could be certain of the loyalty of his underlings.

Tantomile shuddered at something, and curled up in a tiny ball. "Kill me, then. Do whatever horrible thing you must. You have no idea of what has been taken from me."

There it was. Her permission to rape her, mangle her, kill her, and dispose of the body. But Shadowheart trembled in revulsion at the thought of destroying such a beautiful creature. Not even Macavity, through all his years of service, could instill such a desire in him. Never. So he stood up and turned his back on Tantomile, unlocked the door, and walked out into the hallway without looking back.

* * *

**Poor Tanto :(. Don't lose hope yet, though, she still has some life in her :). Review please, and tell me if I should keep writing! -DR**


	6. A Sorcerer's Courage

**W00T! I'm on a roll :D. Here's chapter six for your enjoyment, I hope you like it :).

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**Chapter Six**

The private chambers of Macavity's mate were extremely opulent. Everything was velvet and silk, gold and diamonds, with mute serving-princesses at every turn. At the moment, Damascus was enjoying a bath from one of these maids – at least, on the outside. But inwardly, she was in turmoil.

Macavity did not waste his time on inexperienced virgins unless he was feeling particularly brutal. That was the only "problem" Labyrinth had seen in Damascus. Still, it was a problem that was easily fixed. And what tom better to do the job than Macavity's prize assassin? Damascus had been thrilled that night; finally, she would see what all of the fuss was about. But there was one thing neither Moonface nor Labyrinth nor Damascus had counted on: pregnancy.

Princesses almost never conceived their first time lying with a tom. In fact, it was largely unheard of. It seemed, however, that no such rule applied to Damascus. Now that she knew for certain that the kitten growing inside of her was Moonface's, not Macavity's, it would take delicate maneuvering to tell Labyrinth without risking decapitation or worse. She had contemplated telling her mate first, but one could never be sure of his mood, and Damascus liked her life at the moment. It wasn't what she had envisioned for herself as a young princess, but things had changed. Here, she was treated well, richly even. If her mother had taught her anything, it was that a full stomach was more important than a rewarding love life.

"Leave, please," she murmured, sending her attendants away with a wave of her paw. Alone, she paced her chamber, paws lingering about her abdomen of their own accord. It was a strange thing, being pregnant. And it was frightening to be pregnant in a place where one wrong word could mean death.

* * *

Coricopat crouched beneath the shrubbery of an abandoned house, watching the enormous mansion across the street with a gimlet eye. It was a grim part of London, where two out of five homes were left empty with peeling paint and broken windows that stared out on the street like soulless eyes. Not a breath of wind stirred, but the heat of the day seemed to fade as the multicolored tom remained at his post with chills running continuously down his spine. He hated this post, but Munkustrap knew what he was doing. Misto would have a better chance of reaching his sister than Coricopat would. Cori took a moment to revel in pride. The young magician was incredibly apt at his trade, taking to new spells and chants with surprising alacrity. Invisibility was his finest "act," and Coricopat knew that the tuxedo tom would not bother with sparkles today. This mission required the deepest form of subtlety Mistoffelees had used yet.

A dip in the grass across the street caught Coricopat's attention, and his golden eyes focused sharply on the movement as it grew. The ragged bushes along the sagging porch started to shake, and Cori tensed his muscles to give aid if it was required. Suddenly, out of the bushes burst three black cats, two males and a female. They were all clearly Hellcats, but something appeared to be out of place. The female and one of the males, both all black, were attacking the other male viciously. The victim – an all-black tom with a startling white quarter-moon covering one side of his face – appeared to be well-muscled and capable of defending himself, except for the fact that he was not. Then Coricopat saw the reason as the other male dealt the moon-faced tom a vicious blow that sent him skidding across the sidewalk, leaving a smear of crimson in his wake.

Coricopat wasn't sure of the particulars, but his foresight was tingling enough to make him sneeze several times in a row. The Hellcats were too busy with their dispute to notice him, but the sorcerer tom intended to end that ignorance now.

Cori didn't usually do things loudly, noticeably, or in a showy fashion, and his attack was no different. With a touch like a whisper his paws carried him across the mostly-deserted street and into the fray. Although a pacifist, the sorcerer cat hated to see another living thing being attacked, and this was one of those instances. With uncharacteristic violence, he rammed his head into the queen's belly, winding her and taking her out of the game temporarily. Then with a snarl he turned on the tom, who had paused briefly in shock. Cori wasted no time. With razor-sharp teeth exposed in a silent snarl, he leaped onto the larger tom's chest and sunk his claws deep into the Hellcat's vulnerable neck. Fire burned its way down Coricopat's back as the female recovered and gouged rivers of agony into the sorcerer's skin. For the first time, Cori let out an ear-splitting yowl as the queen's claws were torn from his back. Through the haze, he heard a nauseating crunching sound accompanied by a squeal. The dying Hellcat fell to the ground, taking Cori with him, and right before the pain pulled him under, the sorcerer cat felt himself being lifted up into powerful paws and a black and white face said, "You saved my life. Now I will save yours."

* * *

"Great Rumpus, where is Heaviside is Cori?" Misto breathed. He had sent the pre-appointed signal two minutes ago, but the sorcerer had yet to respond to the call. Misto peered out of the basement window where he was crouching in an alcove. Munkus was getting antsy where he hid in the enormous oak tree fifty Jellicle paces away. Misto glanced at the position of the sun. It was getting late – they would have to move now if they wanted any hope of succeeding in the rescue. It looked like they were going to have to proceed without Coricopat.

Mistoffelees signaled to the Jellicle guardian, and Munkustrap glided down the tree and across the weed-infested lawn like a breath of wind, his silver-and-black patterns making it easier to stay unseen. The magician was almost surprised when the silver tabby popped up out of the dandelions right in front of his nose.

"Ready?" Misto asked.

Munkustrap nodded. "We'll have to do it without him."

"What's the guard situation like?"

"They're watching the front and a few lazies are on the roof. Not sure about the back."

"Never mind. What's our first move, guardian?"

"Have you located her?"

"Yes. Her aura is pulsing slowly about two floors down. Third basement."

"They've certainly done some remodeling," Munkus observed acidly, lips curled back from his teeth in distaste. "Lead the way. You can disguise yourself as a Hellcat, yes?"

Misto sniffed. "Of course." Without a single spark or flair, the magician flooded his white bib and face with coal black. "How's that?"

"You look a little scrawny to be a Hellcat, but it will have to do. Let's go."

* * *

Rumpleteazer did _not_ like infirmary duty. To her erratic spirit, being cooped up in the overturned wardrobe was worse than being locked in the basement without her brother. Nothing exciting ever happened here, so much so that Jennyanydots usually resorted to knitting scarves or sleeping, and Jellylorum came only once a week. But the Junkyard rule about the infirmary was that there must always be two capable Jellicles in attendance at all times during the day, and one at night. Now, with the sun beating down on the square and turning the inside of the wardrobe into an oven, she felt even more bored than usual. Nothing_ ever_ happened in here…

"Make way, make way! Injured Jellicles coming through!" shouted a masculine brogue. Jenny fumbled her knitting and dropped it into a heap as Skimbleshanks darted through the opening, followed closely by a staggering black tom the size of Big Ben with an unconscious Coricopat in his arms. Rumpleteazer's jaw dropped.

"Cor, I takes it all back," she breathed. Her amazement turned to professionalism – professionalism she didn't really have – as Jennyanydots snapped her out of her reverie.

"Teazer! Come on, we haven't got all day. Fetch me the herb bucket right away. Skimble? Hot water."

"I'm at your service, marm," the marmalade tabby bowed before dashing out the way he had come. Rumpleteazer and Jenny took Coricopat from the mysterious tom's powerful arms – just in time. As soon as the sorcerer was clear, the black Jellicle collapsed on the pillows reserved for critically injured patients.

"Croikey," Teazer mumbled. "Lookit the size of 'im!"

"Don't bother with that now," Jenny ordered sternly as she looked Coricopat over with efficient paws. "Poke your head out and see if you can find a young'un to fetch Jellylorum. Then examine him, see if there's any fatal wounds we can start on until she gets here."

Rumpleteazer obeyed – after all, the infirmary wasn't her domain. With a bound she was at the door, looking about. "'Ey, Tumble! I 'opes your not too busy, cuz we be needin' Jellylorum."

The brown and white tom glided over from where he had been practicing his gymnastics. "What's going on, Teazer?"

"Didn'tcha see 'em? Black tom came in, big as the Rumpus, carryin' Cori. The black 'un collapsed, and Cori's unconscious. So go get Jelly, quick!"

Tumblebrutus didn't ask any more questions. Changing fluidly into feline form, he dashed away through the pipe that led into town in search of the butter calico queen.

* * *

The basement of 666 Dragon Boulevard was dark and creepy, appropriate considering that it was Macavity's domain. Mistoffelees covered up his nervousness well, however, prodding his tabby companion in front of him with a stick he found on the floor. He knew where Tantomile was, he just had no idea how to get there. Macavity and his Hellcats had turned the basement into a three-story maze of cells and barracks, so he would have to rely entirely on his magic to find her. Thankfully, no one seemed to be down here. They had only run into a scrawny little trainee, who had squawked and disappeared as soon as he had caught sight of them. For now, he would have to let Munkustrap he his eyes and ears as he focused entirely on keeping contact with Tantomile's faint aura.

"Ouch! Misto, quick prodding. We're stopped," Munkus hissed into the dark.

"Sorry, Munk. What's up?"

"Don't tell me you can't hear that."

Mistoffelees paused and listened intently. It didn't take long for him to locate the sound: somewhere ahead of them, there was a fight going on.

Munkustrap and Mistoffelees quickened their pace, pressing against the wall as they approached the commotion. Misto's intuition warned him seconds before they hurled themselves unintentionally off a precipice, and he grabbed Munkustrap's tail just in time. After a brief scuffle, they settled on the ledge and peered down into the hellish depths.

Apparently there was a fourth level. Below them stretched a perfectly formed, smooth-sided cell. Torches ensconced in iron candelabras did nothing to soften the harsh-cut stone; instead they only served to enhance the barbarity of the scene below them. Munkustrap felt rather than saw Misto's claws digging into the dirt floor next to him in fury as the long-furred ginger Himalayan tom paced around the prone figure of Tantomile.

"Your magic is no good to me, witch. Why is that?"

On her back with her face pressed into the dirt floor by a Hellcat's foot, Tantomile could not answer. Munkustrap had a feeling that she would refuse to answer even if she could. The two toms flinched at the same time as Macavity sent a bolt of blood-red magic into her body and screamed maniacally, "TELL ME!"

"Munkus…" Misto whimpered under his breath. "We have to do something…"

"Wait," Munkustrap whispered. "Look."

There was another Hellcat lingering in the shadows, unnoticed by either Macavity or his accomplice. He was chained to the wall and blood matted his gray-black fur, but it was obvious he was not going to sit by helplessly. With a measured pace he stood, supporting himself against the wall. Munkus gasped silently as powerful black paws tore the iron chains from the wall by force.

"By the Everlasting Cat…"

Munkustrap's voice was drowned out by a terrific roar as the Hellcat – now an ex-Hellcat, no doubt – drove his shoulder into Macavity's back, taking the magician to the ground. He wrapped the chains, still dragging from his wrists, around Macavity's neck to the point of suffocation.

"Release her," he growled to the other Hellcat, who was obviously unsure of what to do. "I said, RELEASE HER!"

Misto finally decided to act. White-gold fire flickered out of the corner of Munkustrap's eye, and he watched in disbelief as identical sparks danced around the black Hellcat's head. A moment later, the tom fell backwards with a loud _thunk_.

Tantomile lay still.

* * *

**Dum dum dummmm! What will happen next? Je ne sais pas, but I'm sure it will be exciting. :D -DR PS: Reviews are helpful, let me know how I'm doing!**


	7. Welcome to the Posse

**Here's Chapter Seven up. Hope you enjoy, there's a little bit of fuzzies at the end :).  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Demeter was nervous, and that made her jumpy. The gold and black queen had been born with a little bit of a sixth sense, an intuition stronger than was common among Jellicles, and when her paws tingled like they were right now, she paid attention. The only trouble was, she could never tell what was going to happen.

She forced herself to stop kneading the blanket Munkustrap had draped around her shoulders to shreds, and dropped out of the car hood. As long as she was scared silly it was probably best to pay Bomba a visit. She had no sooner stepped out into the open Square, however, than Skimbleshanks dashed out of the infirmary and disappeared. He was soon followed by Rumpleteazer, who spoke briefly to Tumblebrutus before retreating. Her curiosity piqued, Demeter made her way casually over to the infirmary.

"Deme! Thank goodness, we need another pair of paws. Come here, please, and help me," Jennyanydots requested as soon as the gold-and-black queen poked her ears inside. Demeter obeyed, gawking at the enormous black tom Rumpleteazer was examining.

"Great Rumpus, who in Heaviside is _that_?" she asked.

"Who in the Basements, more like," Jennyanydots murmured, a prim set to her mouth as she worked busily over Coricopat.

Rumpleteazer turned her face away so Demeter and Jenny wouldn't see her expression. She knew Jenny didn't mean any harm, but what she had said was still unfair. Just because the tom was black didn't mean he served Macavity. At least, Rumpleteazer really hoped it didn't. As she dabbed the tom's numerous wounds with a salve, she admired his striking features. He was very handsome, she thought, with a stark white crescent moon on the right side of his face. Pale rose petal pink tinged the brow not covered in black. He was a shorthair, probably a Bombay cat, though the white suggested mixed origins. Rumpleteazer carefully cleaned away a little of the blood on his brow with a rag, and almost leaped out of her skin when she took the cloth away and met the gaze of a pair of deep golden eyes.

"G-good evenin' to ya," she stammered. "Don't worry, Oi means ya no 'arm."

The tom opened his mouth to reply, and his face spasmed with pain as he coughed up blood instead. Rumpleteazer rushed to help him sit up.

"Don't fuss yourself, I'll be all right," he said in a calm baritone, waving her fluttering paws aside.

"Oi doan't think so, sir, beggin' yer pardon. If you'll jus' sit still Oi can 'elp ya," she said firmly despite her fear. His paws were _enormous_…

"Do you need help, Teazer?" Jenny called.

"No ma'am," the tiger queen replied. "Here ya goes, cough into this," she said, handing the tom another cloth. He complied, staining the white rag with red while she cleaned his bloody front. "You 'aven't got no cuts in yer lungs, sir, so that's not et. Are ya sick?"

"Yes." The tom wiped his mouth with the now-useless rag and tossed it aside. "That's why I didn't kill all those traitors myself."

Teazer winced at the thought. "Did Cori 'elp ya, then?"

The tom looked curious. "Cori?"

"His name's Coricopat, but we all calls 'im Cori," Teazer explained. She sat back on her heels, finished cleaning up. "Oi'm not an 'ealer, really, so you'll have ta wait till Jennyanydots can diagnose ya."

He nodded, lying back down. "All right. What are you called, then?"

"Oi'm Rumpleteazah," she declared. "'Oo are you?"

"They call me Moonface." His face clouded. "Moonface the Assassin."

* * *

"Moonface the Assassin, eh?" The silver tabby's brows drew together in a frown. "I may speak to my father about this."

"Where is Old Deut, I wonder?" the Rum Tum Tugger wanted to know. "I haven't seen him since the Ball."

"That's because you don't visit him," Munkustrap replied dryly. "You know our father doesn't like making the journey these days, it's too far for him."

"What do we do about him?" Alonzo asked, returning to the subject. "He could be dangerous."

"I don't know," Munkustrap admitted. "Plato, what do you think? Your mother's treated him firsthand."

The quiet white-and-auburn patched tom spoke up from his sphinx-like position on a box labeled _Clementines_. "There is no danger, at least for the moment. He was badly torn up in some kind of fight, and seems to have sickness in his lungs that causes him to cough up blood."

Admetus wrinkled his nose. "Charming."

Munkustrap coughed conspicuously. "Back to the matter at hand…"

"We're listening, Top," Tugger sighed. "Your sentinels are at your service."

"Thank you. For now, I want all the junkyard-dwellers to keep as near to the square as possible," Munkustrap ordered. "Macavity will be displeased that we stole his prize, so Jellicles with humans to go back to ought to be escorted in small groups by a capable guardian. Are all of you willing?" There were nods and murmurs of assent from the assembled guardians, and then Tumblebrutus spoke up.

"What about Tantomile? Was she harmed?"

All five toms turned their heads to the thus-far silent Mistoffelees, who was looking at his paws. "She has a few bruises, and a cut on her cheek, but other than that she's perfectly fine physically. Mentally…" He looked up solemnly. "Coricopat and I aren't so sure."

"Can you tell us what happened, exactly?" Munkustrap inquired gently.

"Macavity stole her magic," the tuxedo tom said bluntly. "Ripped it out of her, more like. There are lots of scars left, scars you can't see. Her entire being is altered because of what he stole from her. She's the same Jellicle on the outside, but not on the inside because he has mangled her Jellicle soul."

All the toms' ears were flat and their eyes downcast as Misto's words fell among them like swords. They all knew the significance of the Jellicle soul. It was what allowed them to transform into their two-legged selves, their true selves. It gave them a kind of magic, linking them to the moon and the night and the worship of life. To damage that soul in any way could lead to the destruction of the Jellicle itself.

"Very well," Munkustrap said. "You are dismissed. I will call a meeting tomorrow at noon beneath the tire after I speak with my father."

In silence the toms dispersed, going to the lair they shared as young adults behind the old speaker. Munkustrap sighed as he watched Misto go off by himself. The young tom was very distraught, and he worried how it would affect the rest of the yard. The Tugger threw him a half-hearted salute before sauntering off to his own home a few blocks away. The silver tabby noted that his half-brother's swagger had noticeably less panache than usual.

Day was breaking as Munkustrap climbed up onto the tire and looked over the Square. Although he didn't live here all the time, it was more of a home than the house where his human lived. It was under his care, and his responsibility to protect its inhabitants from harm. He sighed. He had held the post for a long time, and this was the first time he had truly, deeply failed.

A light touch on his shoulder startled him, and Demeter's elegant features stared back at him. They spoke no words, but each knew what the other was saying as they curled up together on the tire to watch the sun rise.

* * *

There were four toms in the Junkyard recently out of adolescence, and they had formed a kind of bond. Admetus, Alonzo, Tumblebrutus, and Plato were all guardians, and they had grown up together as kittens. Since they were still unmated and preferred sleeping with someone else to keep warm, the four toms had formed a kind of posse, which was housed in the box made by an old-fashioned speaker and a waterlogged mantel clock. Overhead a cracked chessboard kept off the worst of the weather, and the wooden beams that formed the floor had been piled high with pillows, blankets, and old socks. Any given night they could be found curled up in a multicolored ball, fast asleep. Tonight, however, each was awake and thinking.

Alonzo was Munkustrap's successor and the oldest of the four toms, but Plato was the real leader of their group. Although quiet and relatively withdrawn, he had a sharp, inquisitive spirit and an instinctive compassion for others inherited from his mother, Jennyanydots. Tumblebrutus was a loner and used to it, having grown up an orphan, but he fit in with the others easily due to their mild temperaments. Admetus was the most outgoing of the four, always with other Jellicles and finding an unlikely role model in the Rum Tum Tugger. Despite their differences, however, they never seemed to disagree on a large scale, not even on this solemn night.

"I am having an epiphany." The words came from Plato, who was on his back staring through a crack in the panel at the fading stars.

"What? That we should fix our roof so we don't keep getting rained on?" Admetus guessed, earning him a smack from Alonzo. "Yowch! What was that for?"

"Listen up, Addie," Tumblebrutus said. "Plato's got something to say."

Admetus rolled onto his stomach and frowned into his arms at being called Addie, but stayed quiet so Plato could talk.

"I know you all saw how upset Misto was," the patched tom said. "I feel bad for him. None of us really understand Tantomile, or even Coricopat for that matter, but she was his teacher, and now…"

"Now she can't be," Tumblebrutus filled in.

"Exactly."

"So… you want to invite Misto to join us?" Alonzo asked somewhat doubtfully.

"Right again," Plato smiled. "I know he's… different from us... magical, I mean. But he's a Jellicle just like we are, and he's upset right now. I think he could use some company."

"Are we going to have an initiation and everything?" Admetus wanted to know. "Because that would take too long. And we don't have any more official bottle caps, Pounce stole them." Alonzo made as if to smack him again, and instead yanked his tail. "_Ow_!"

"I'm not saying we have to invite him to be part of our club, 'Metus," Plato reassured him. "It's just… a slumber party invite."

Tumblebrutus snickered. "That sounds so unbelievable girly. Let's have Cettie and Jemmie over and make it co-ed."

"Good grief, you guys are judgmental," Alonzo sniffed. "Fine, if you two are too manly to be good citizens, _I'll_ go ask him to join us." Stepping pointedly on Admetus' tail, he slipped out of the crack that was their front door and out into the cool dawn.

The black-and-white tortie tom slipped across the square to the pipe, which was now the magician's haunt since Demeter began sleeping with Munkustrap. Alonzo glanced up at the tire to see them cuddling and smiled to himself. He had felt compassion towards Deme when she first arrived, but it was obvious to everyone that she and Munkustrap were perfect together. Besides, Alonzo preferred a princess who was feisty and sassy to a girl who needed constant affection.

The pipe was stuffed full of black fur, so Alonzo didn't dive right in. Instead he cleared his throat and crouched in a nonthreatening position. "'Scuse me, Misto, is the magician in?"

The black fur shifted to expose Mistoffelees' striking white face and bib. "Hey, 'Lonzo. No, the magician isn't in. Just the kitten." He smiled ruefully and wiped a few tears off his cheeks.

"We – I mean, Plato, 'Metus, Tumble, and I – wanted to know if you'd like to come over and have slumber party," Alonzo invited him, quickly adding, "Those were Plato's words, not mine."

Misto gave a watery chuckle. "I didn't think that sounded like something you would say." He paused. "R-really? I mean, I don't want to impose, but it sounds like…"

"Like something you need right now?" Alonzo suggested.

"Exactly." Misto rolled out of the pipe and the two toms made their way across the Square, waving cheekily at Munkus and Deme as they passed. Inside the posse's lair they were assailed with pillows, curing and drying Misto's tears at the same time. Eventually, hot and tired, Admetus and Tumblebrutus pushed the chessboard roof off to let the cool air pour in, and the five toms mashed themselves together into a pile.

"'Nighty-night," Tumblebrutus mumbled sleepily.

"'Morning," Admetus returned pertly.

There was a little bit of silence, and then Alonzo's paw came down with a _smack_ on top of Admetus' head. "Shush yourself and go to sleep," he commanded.

"Yes, oh wise and gracious leader. _Ouch_! 'Lonzo, stop hitting me! Plato, make him stop."

"Ugh! Shut up, Addie, and let the rest of us sleep."

Misto began to chuckle, and then to laugh. Soon all of them were roaring, their laughter carrying far across the Junkyard and waking up the Jellicles who were just falling asleep.

"Are you guys always like this?" Misto wanted to know when their gales had finally subsided.

"Yeah, pretty much," Tumblebrutus sighed. "Like it?"

Misto smiled. "I think it's great."

Plato butted heads with him gently. "Then welcome to the posse."

* * *

**Aww, ain't that sweet? Just to clarify, Tumble, 'Metus, Misto, 'Lonzo, and Plato are NOT gay in any way. (Heh, that rhymed...) They're just friends. End of story. I don't write that kind of thing, no offense meant to anyone. -DR**


	8. Sanctuary

**Chapter eight, finally! :D Almost done with exams!!!!** EDIT: CHANGED THE END OF THIS CHAPTER. /EDIT 2: Changed the end and edited some important details.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Skimbleshanks curled up sleepily in a pile of blankets, sore after a long day's work on the rails. The infirmary was fairly quiet despite its sudden influx of patients, so he had decided to catch a few winks before the sun set. His mate, Jellylorum, moved busily about the open communal "doctor's office," straightening pillows and seeing that her main patient – the black tom who called himself Moonface – was comfortable. The marmalade tabby shifted to get a better view, adjusting his vest as he did so. From what he had seen, there was nothing to fear from the strange tom. He was perfectly gentlemanly and polite with all the queens who attended him, and Jelly had reported to her mate a willingness to cooperate during his daily examinations. Other than that, however, no one had really asked him any questions, nor had he officially requested sanctuary from Munkustrap, the leader in Old Deuteronomy's absence. The only Jellicle who dared to speak with the mysterious cat was Rumpleteazer, a surprise in and of itself. Skimble pursed his lips as he thought about the tiger twins, orphaned children of Skimble's late brother. They certainly were a pair of cards, always getting into trouble and worrying him half to death with their antics. Deep down he knew they meant no harm, however, in spite of rumors that Mungojerrie had once been in the service of Macavity.

But there was a thing to think about. Why was Teazer spending so much time in the Infirmary lately? Everyone knew she hated "doctor duty," yet here she was doing double shifts every day she could. Skimbleshanks twitched his tail as he looked hard at the sleeping Moonface. For Skimble, at least, it wasn't hard to discern his niece's motives. The only question was, what did Moonface himself think of all this? _For that matter_, Skimble thought_, what do _I_ think about all this?

* * *

_

Exotica lingered in the shadows, watching the other Jellicles at play. The darkness of the night hid her coffee-brown coat from their eyes and allowed her to observe them at her leisure. Being shy, she thanked her natural camouflage for hiding her social blunders and slight speech impediment; but she often thirsted for a companionship that Old Deuteronomy, the only cat who recognized her presence on a regular basis, could provide.

It was evening now, and the Jellicle were beginning to come out of their lairs. Exotica was feeling restless and somewhat brave, so instead of waiting until the sun was gone entirely, she abandoned her snug antique chest and slipped over to the tire. It was time for cats to greet the night.

Tumblebrutus backflipped across the square with fluid ease, watched keenly by Etcetera and Jemima. Electra entered, escorting her adopted mother Jennyanydots to her customary nest in the open lorry trunk. Alonzo and Pouncival mimicked Tumblebrutus' sinuous movements on top of the old cement pipe, making horrendous faces and caterwauling at the top of their lungs. Bombalurina sauntered out of her lair right under Admetus' nose. Exotica rolled her eyes. The white-and-marmalade tom was practically drooling all over the red queen's tail. He had forgotten Victoria pretty quick, it seemed. Speaking of the white queen, she was finding solace in a small solo dance apart from the others, apart from her old kitten friends and not yet a part of the adults. Exotica felt sorry for her, being in a similarly unnoticed situation, but couldn't muster up the courage to approach the elegant queen.

Demeter hopped gracefully onto the tire just above Exotica, watching with a glowing smile as Munkustrap finished his rounds and hopped up beside her. From her place in the shadows, Exotica felt a sharp twinge in her heart and heat pricking behind her eyes, and she turned away from the happy couple. They were so perfect together. Why couldn't she have someone like that?

Something hard bonked her on the nose, startling her out of her self-pity. On the ground lay a gleaming purple bottle cap, the paint worn away in places to reveal the metal beneath. Exotica looked up to see a brown and white freckled face looking back down at her from the boxes piled up next to the tire.

"Hi," said the face. "Can I have that back, please?" He pointed a black paw at the bottle cap.

"S-sure. What do you w-want it for?" Exotica asked, genuinely curious.

The adolescent tom looked about furtively. "You don't blab secrets, do you?"

Exotica blinked. "Of c-course not. _Then again, no one ever gives me any secrets to tell…_

"C'mere." He beckoned her up beside him. "This is my collection. Don't tell Alonzo."

Exotica's eyes widened. Spread over the box the adolescent was crouching on were about two dozen bottle caps, all shined to silver perfection with the paint left in the shape of a heart on each. Orange, blue, green, purple, and red hearts all gathered in a circle.

"Wow! They're r-really pretty," Exotica said admiringly. "Are… are you m-making them f-for someone?"

The tom nodded shyly. "I'm going to make them into a necklace. I need some wire first, though, and something to bore the holes with."

"W-wire is easy," she told him. "S-someone just dumped loads and loads of it b-behind the lorry."

The tom examined his paws, scraped and reddened from his labor over the bottle caps. He looked up and met her eyes determinedly. "Show me."

* * *

Bombalurina was out of her funk and back into her usual groove. The night smelled like promise to her. The deal she had made with Rumpleteazer was paying off, Admetus was within her reach, and soon all would be right in the world.

Her only regret was Victoria. She felt slightly empathetic towards the white queen, as much as she hated to admit it, but took comfort in the fact that it was Teazer, not herself, who had played the biggest role in refocusing Admetus' attention away from Vickie. The spoiled queen's troubles were not Bomba's problem.

The red amazon allowed herself a smirk in the direction of the tire where Munkustrap and Demeter snuggled, watching the Jellicles cavort about the Square. From what the gold-and-black queen had told her, they were now mates. Now all that remained was to announce it before the whole Tribe at the next official gathering, and it would be official.

Bombalurina's musings were interrupted as she set out across to speak to Demeter and nearly got bowled over by two teens. Both of them were sent tumbling into a pile of white, brown, and coffee-colored arms and legs while the red queen brushed herself off disdainfully.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" she demanded hotly, tail lashing around her ankles.

Her venom was lost on the hapless pair. The tom – Pouncival, wasn't it? – leaped to his feet and bowed gallantly in her direction; too gallantly, Bomba thought. He was mocking her, she was certain of it.

"Forgive me, lady Bombalurina," he intoned. "It shan't happen again."

With a giggle he and his companion, some foreign-looking shorthaired breed, scampered off. Bomba's mood suddenly ruined, she stomped over to the pipe and arranged herself on it coyly, brushing out imaginary snarls in her mane.

The Rum Tum Tugger – no, the Rumpus cat himself could have strutted by, and he wouldn't have ruffled the scarlet queen a bit. She combed and combed away, batting her lashes now and then at the hypnotized Admetus across the square, totally unaware of another tom she was affecting.

* * *

Mungojerrie had come out of seclusion. The entire Junkyard, housecat or no, had become involved in the desperate search for Tantomile in one way or another, and so he had finally left the house. Now he was wishing he could go back and hide, but he knew deep down inside that he couldn't hide forever.

Situated on the seat of a large wooden chair in a position most humans would wince at, the tiger tom hung his head down in the classic feline pose of relaxation and gazed under hooded lids at the red feline across from him. He knew she was sitting just so to tempt a certain tom, but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, she displayed herself to the world for better or worse, and who was he to deprive her of attention, albeit unnoticed? But Mungojerrie wasn't absorbed with Bombalurina due to looks alone, though those were what had attracted him in the first place. Whenever he looked at her, he saw another red queen lingering beneath her voluptuous façade that reminded him more of Victoria than of Bomba. That queen craved attention from one tom and one tom alone. She was afraid to show herself, and hid in the shadows, but Mungojerrie wasn't blinded by the show she put on. He knew insecure-Bomba was in there, stifled by an overwhelming pretension that was getting out of hand.

Jerrie sighed and rolled over, turning his back on Bombalurina. The only problem was, he didn't know how to get past her pretense to the real Bomba underneath. And until he found out, he was too scared of failing to even approach her.

"'Ey Jerrie!"

Mungojerrie scrambled upright, startled out of his wits by his harebrained sister. Rumpleteazer giggled wildly, delighted by his reaction.

"I scared ya, did I?"

"No, Teazah, ya didn't," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Whaddaya want?"

Rumpleteazer cleared her throat importantly. "I'd loike ya ta meet someone. C'mon, I'll show ya." Whirling about, she dropped to the ground and stood looking at him impatiently. "Let's go, Jerrie, 'urry up! What's gotten into ya?"

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he mumbled, following her lead and almost landing on her, much to her delight. Sometimes – especially nowadays – he just couldn't keep up with his sister's sense of fun. Then he look up and found himself face to face with a wall of black. The tiger tom's ears flattened and his tail twitched nervously as he looked up several more inches to the white-spattered face of the mysterious Jellicle in front of him.

"Jerrie, this is Moonface," Rumpleteazer said more seriously. "'E was 'urt bad, but 'e's gettin' better now."

"Mostly thanks to your sister," the tom spoke up in a chilling baritone that made Mungojerrie flinch. "I'm pleased to make the acquaintance of anyone related to Teazer."

Jerrie blinked. Only his sister's close friends and relatives called her that. "Um, good. Great. Nice ta meet ya too." He tried to be polite for his sister's sake and brushed knuckles with the black tom in the traditional Jellicle greeting, but bile was rising in the back of his throat. He wasn't blind. Rumpleteazer's protectiveness as she stood by the hulking black tom was all too decipherable. And from what Jerrie knew of this Moonface character, he did _not_ approve.

A scattered banging noise startled all the Jellicles in the Square, including the tiger twins and their dark companion. On the tire, Munkustrap winced at the din made obligingly by Etcetera and Jemima.

"Yes, thank you, girls. That's enough now," he said hastily. The two princesses giggled as they gave one last _clangg_ with their pots and pans before obeying. "Ahem! Jellicles, thank you for your attention. As you know, Old Deuteronomy cannot be here tonight, so I am taking his place. It has been two weeks since the Jellicle Ball, and even though we don't usually have half-month festivals, there are many things going on that I and Old Deuteronomy feel need to be announced and dealt with among the tribe." He nodded as Alonzo brought in Jellylorum and Jennyanydots, the only Jellicles not present. "Now that we are all here, we can begin.

"I think all of you are aware of the recent tangle with Macavity. Misto, would you care to give a report on Tantomile's progress?"

The tuxedo tom stood, poised despite his large audience. "Tantomile is beginning to show signs of progress, Guardian. Macavity neglected to drain Coricopat of his magic as well, and since they are twins, Cori can share some of his 'spark' to stimulate her supernatural repair." His white face darted briefly into a grin. "Is that understandable?"

"Yes, Misto, thank you," the silver tabby replied with an answering smile. "That is good news indeed. Now on to something a little less vital. Moonface, if you would stand? Where is our sorcerer?"

Coricopat materialized beside the enormous black tom. "Here, Guardian."

Munkustrap nodded. "I would like to take this opportunity to settle the matter of this tom, once in the service of Macavity, who has played a role in recent events and received aid from us here. Moonface, you say you are called Assassin?"

The black tom bowed respectfully. "Guardian, that was my title, but is no longer."

"And you were in the service of Macavity, our enemy?"

"I was not one of his servants, Guardian. He would pay me to do jobs for him, but we did not have a… signed contract."

"Do you still have loyalty to Macavity?"

"No, Guardian, nor did I ever."

Munkustrap paused briefly before continuing, his manner a little less strict. "Do you have a mate or kittens, Moonface? Any other ties elsewhere?"

"I do not."

"Can you tell us what was occurring the day you left Macavity's service?"

Moonface hesitated. "Guardian, it is not entirely fit for the ears of kittens. Suffice to say I performed a job for Macavity that I found particularly distasteful, and rebelled against him. He had me removed from the premises forcibly. While I was fighting off the Hellcats he had set on me, I was aided by Coricopat here. Together we defeated them."

The silver tabby nodded. "Thank you, Moonface. You may sit." He turned to the rest of the gathered cats. "Jellicles! You have heard his tale from his own lips. Are there any more questions you wish to ask of him, or will we grant him sanctuary?"

The Square filled with silence – not one Jellicles twitched to much as a tail. Mungojerrie glanced at Moonface out of the corner of his eye, and felt a change inside.

"I say we grant him sanctuary," he announced, standing. Munkustrap nodded, taking him into account. Rumpleteazer was quick to copy him, followed by Skimbleshanks and his mate, Jellylorum. Gradually, one by one, the Jellicles stood until not one was left sitting. Munkustrap smiled briefly – there was no opposition.

"Then welcome, Moonface. You are now officially a member of the Junkyard Tribe." No sooner had the words been spoken then there was a sharp cry.

"Someone, come quickly!"

Skimbleshanks leaped upright. "That's Jelly. I thought she was here. Where…?"

Before he even finished the question, Pouncival and Exotica leaped over the oven at a dead run, panic in their faces. "Munkus, Guardian!" the patched tom shouted, out of breath. "It's Jelly. She's found…" he gulped.

"She's found kittens, sir," Exotica finished for him, her voice high with fear but her face calmer than that of her companion. "They're in trouble, sir."

A pandemonium arose almost instantaneously as Jellicles scrambled to be of use. Munkus leapt to his feet and with a roared "QUIET!" A hush fell, and the silver tabby pointed to various Jellicles quickly and with calming assurance. "Tumble, Misto, Alonzo, bring the kittens here. Exotica will show you where to go. Moonface, go with them please. Pouncival, escort Jenny to the infirmary. Demeter and Plato, go with her to assist. The rest of you stay here, and be quiet! There is no need for you to all go rushing off."

Everyone obeyed instantly. Demeter brushed a paw across Munkus' shoulder and gave him an approving smile as she moved towards the infirmary. Taking deep breaths, Munkustrap calmed himself. This was no time to lose his head. Slipping off the tire, he moved among the Jellicles remaining, touching paws, nuzzling heads, and brushing cheeks as he murmured encouraging words. He wished he could know what was happening out there, but for now all he could do was wait with the rest of them. Wait, and hope that death would not haunt the Junkyard this night.

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**Huzzah :). Hope you like it, please review! DR  
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	9. Victor's Story

Well well well, if it isn't an update. :) Not sure if I have many readers for this, but I hope those who are reading it A) forgive me for the absence (see my profile for more info), and B) aren't too ticked off to not reread the story, especially chapter 8 (which I made some important changes to). Regardless, whoever you are, I hope you enjoy the next installment of the Jellicle Junkyard. WARNING: Some T-rated stuff ahead, mostly the suggestion of gore; not too bad, though, I hope ;). -DR**  


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**Chapter Nine**

**Victor's Story**

Shadows were heavy among the piles of discarded furniture, but Jellyorum's feline eyesight was not affected. The scene before her was all too clear: a sleek gray tom, heavily muscled with muted fawn and gold markings, crouched over a mish-mashed bundle of fur, damp in the mist of dew that was falling. His eyes had the look of a Jellicle driven to the brink of madness as they darted back and forth, an unhealthy shade of yellow. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the Healer diagnosed him with any number of things – schizophrenia, paranoia, post-traumatic stress disorder – but her main attention was focused on the danger he posed to the vulnerable kittens.

Jelly's right ear swiveled back as the light sound of footpaws reached her. Alonzo and Tumblebrutus appeared through the mist as if by magic, flanking her with soundless snarls for the gray tom. Mistoffelees really _did_ appear by magic, entirely without sparkles as he materialized on top of a folding chair to her right.

"What's going on, Jelly?" Alonzo murmured out of the corner of his mouth. Jelly reflected briefly that Alonzo's smug, adolescent attitude in front of other Jellicles had disappeared in the time of real difficulty. _Maybe Munkus really did make the right decision_, she thought before replying.

"It's hard to say," she murmured. "I don't like the look of that tom, but I'm not sure he means them any harm. He seems to be protecting them. What I want to know is, are they hurt, how _badly_ are they hurt, and what will it take to convince the tom to let me near them to find out?" She sensed the two toms sharing a silent conversation over her head, and then Tumblebrutus nodded.

"Back in a tick," he promised before approaching the strange tom and his charges with care.

Shadowheart was in dire straights. He had finally come to the end of his rope, and the other Hellcats knew it. Macavity had been temporarily taken out of the game when those two mysterious toms appeared and whisked Tantomile from the interrogation cell, but his memories of that were fuzzy. All he knew was that he had managed to escape, taking his two kitten with him. As for his mate… _No. She's dead. Acacia is dead._ Shadowheart swallowed hard, eyes darting between the four Jellicles facing him down. _I don't know if I can take all of them. I can't loose my kits! Not again…_

The white-and-brown calico was approaching with great care. Shadowheart stiffened, preparing to do battle to defend his family. His great shaggy tail lashed back and forth, uncomfortably wet and heavy with the thick mist that was descending, and his pupils dilated as he crouched more over the kittens, turning his sour yellow eyes black.

_I wish Plato was here_, Tumblebrutus thought regretfully. _He's better at this kind of stuff than I am_. Nevertheless, the brief signals he had shared with Alonzo reminded him that he was the best candidate for this task. More muscular and lithe from his constant acrobatics than Alonzo or Misto, he was also slightly older; besides, sending Jelly into the fray was just not right. A queen might be better able to snare the gray tom's trust, but one false move and the Junkyard would be short a valuable member. _They can at least afford to lose me_, Tumble reflected briefly, and then stifled the thought. _That's not fair. C'mon, Tumble-bumble, let's see you crack this tom over the head if he even twitches a wrong way._

The gray tom did indeed look like he was preparing to do battle. His ears were pressed flat to his tangled, dirty mane, and his tail lashed in warning even as a faint velvet sound alerted Tumble to the unsheathing of claws. The younger calico immediately decided talk was better than action in this case.

"Sir, we mean you no harm. My name is Tumblebrutus. Behind me are Alonzo and Mistoffelees, and our Healer Jellylorum. We want to help you and the kittens."

For a moment the gray tom didn't move an inch. Then a hoarse, rattling voice dragged itself from his throat to fall in a nerve-wracking heap upon the ground. "Mine. They're mine."

Tumblebrutus put out his paws to show they were sheathed. "Of course, sir. We won't take you away from them." He looked a little more closely at the dirt matting the tom's gray fur and swallowed hard. It wasn't dirt – it was blood. "We'll help you too, if you need it."

The gray tom didn't hesitate this time, spitting on the ground in contempt. "You come from _him_, don't you? I can smell an agent a mile away. I warn you, one false move and your eyes won't make it back to Dragon Boulevard tonight."

The back of Tumble's neck prickled. "You come from Macavity?"

"DON'T SPEAK THAT NAME IN FRONT OF ME!" the tom screamed; one of the kittens jerked at the sound, looking up to expose a silver face marked with fawn and black. Tumblebrutus glanced down, distracted, and the tom leaped for him.

"Tumble, watch out!" Alonzo shouted, bounding forward. The three toms fell into a snarling pile a few feet short of the kittens, roiling as they fought tooth and claw. Misto, alarmed, sprang forward and conjured a cloth from a piece of string that lay caked in dirt on the ground – pretty well for not having any warning, he thought. Jelly was close behind him.

"Take them to the Junkyard," she hollered over the sounds of the fight. "I'll settle this."

Misto gaped at the very idea, but did what he was told. Jellylorum, as everyone knew, was no ordinary healer. She was capable of a good deal, and the mystic twins treated her so deferentially that it was often speculated that she had a magic of her own. But she never admitted to anything, and so Misto – and everyone else – had to simply accept ignorance and settle for an awed gratitude that such a talented physician was in their midst.

Once Misto had disappeared with the kittens, Jelly surveyed the scene carefully. It was an all-out tomfight, and she knew she could easily get hurt if she didn't watch her step. Nonetheless, she bided her time, waiting until Alonzo and Tumblebrutus had finally gained the upper hand and had the shadow-gray tom pinned beneath them.

"PEKES! DOGS! CURS! _What have you done with my children?!_"

Jelly winced at the yowling, but forced herself to concentrate as she approached and, kneeling by the tom's head, pressed her fingers to the bloody temple. There was a lot of damage done, inside and out, but she forced herself to ignore it and brought the curtains down over those odd yellow eyes. "Good work, you two. He'll sleep like a baby now, at least for tonight." Not waiting to gauge the reaction of the two scratched-up toms, she turned and made for the Junkyard at a light trot. The kittens, she was sure, would be needing her assistance.

* * *

Demeter was struck immediately by the appearance of the two kittens as Misto appeared in his customary shower of sparkles within the infirmary. The only thing they shared was a primarily gray coloring – their sexes, ages, and other markings were all different. The older one, a pre-adolescent male a summer or two short of Pouncival's age, didn't seem to have suffered much outwardly. Although his silver-tabby fur was matted and the golden-fawn markings in his mane, tail, and shoulder fur caught up with burrs, he was relatively clean. A couple of scratches pointed to rough handling, maybe being dragged through briars on a mad flight from somewhere, but that was the extent of the damage.

The female, perhaps two summers younger, was not as well off. She was primarily white, with a smattering of gold over top of scattered gray markings. Paler red spots framed her face, and formed rosettes on her paws and belly. Of course, that was just a guess: blood had soiled much of her multicolored fur. A deep head wound suggested a swift clubbing, and shallower scratches on her arms and sides stained white with pale copper blood. The worst part – and the part that instantly connected with Demeter – was the smears of blood on the kitten's thighs and lower belly. As much as the gold and black queen wanted to disbelieve it, she knew the young princess had been raped.

Jelly followed Misto by a couple of minutes, hurrying in with the speed of a Jellicle half her age. Demeter beckoned her over instantly.

"The tom's all right, as far as we know," she explained. "Jenny and Teazer are taking care of him. This one…" Demeter swallowed and looked away. "I think you'd better take a look, Jelly."

The Healer's sharp eyes were quick to take in the damage. "Great Rumpus, she's not more than two summers old!" Jellylorum breathed, horror and disgust stamped on her face. "_Monster_."

Demeter glanced quickly across the female kitten's still form. "Who?"

"Their 'father,'" Jelly replied shortly. "Gray tom, looked like a Hellcat to me. Alonzo and Tumblebrutus should be bringing him in shortly. He was guarding them, supposedly, though I'm not sure I trust his judgment – the tom's mentally ill, I believe."

Demeter nodded silently, waiting for Jellylorum's pronouncement. As with every other patient she had ever received, the Healer started with the head, examining everything carefully. The gash was not as deep as Demeter had first feared, thankfully; Jelly predicted the young princess would awaken within the hour.

"She's resilient, as far as I can tell," Jelly told her helper in a low murmur as her hands moved professionally down the limp white body. "I'm not an expert in the Jellicle soul, but her mind seems strong and flexible. Let's check her ribs, now." The older queen winced several times as her hands ran down the princess' ribcage like a harpist's fingers over the strings. "She's so malnourished. Teazer," she called over her shoulder, "try and make up a hot mash for these two. I'll supply the milk. Lots of honey, if you can find it – ask Misto, he brought in supplies not two days ago."

The tiger queen nodded and slipped out without a word.

Demeter had to look away as tears dripped down Jellylorum's nose when she came to the princess' abdomen. "Oh Rumpus," the Healer whispered. "I… who would do such a thing?"

"What's wrong?" Demeter asked, not sure if she wanted to know.

"She's pretty torn up inside. Bearing kittens might not be an option for this little girl," Jelly whispered sadly. "Deme, you can start cleaning her up now. I'm going to try and find some bandages for those two broken ribs I found."

This part was often the easiest for Demeter – it was helping to set broken bones and splint stepped-on tails that she found the most difficult – but tonight it was the hardest. With shaking hands she cleansed the kitten's fur with a cloth dipped in hot water, gently combing out snarls and matted blood from her mane and tail. When she was finished, Jelly taped up the broken ribs and examined the ruined pelvic area one more time, shaking her head.

"There's not much I can do now. She'll have to heal on her own time. Call me when she wakes up, will you?"

Demeter nodded, her eyes not leaving the sleeping face of the abused kitten.

* * *

After prowling about for a couple of minutes in front of the infirmary, Mistoffelees realized that Tumble and Alonzo would be having a difficult time lugging the muscular gray tom back to the Junkyard as a deadweight. Relieved at having something to do, he vanished in a puff of genie-like smoke…

…and reappeared on top of a bicycle seat a few feet above the heads of his friends struggling on either end of their burden. Leaping down before them, he bowed with a flourish.

"The Conjuring Cat is in, friends – how may I be of assistance?"

"Misto! Thank Heaviside," Tumble panted. "How much weight can you take?"

"As much as is required," the tuxedo tom replied with a puffed-out chest. Then he let out a huff of air in a laugh. "Actually, not quite. He's a monster all right. Let me see…" With a twiddle of his fingers and a weight-lifter's grimace, Mistoffelees tested the tom's weight. "Grab his footpaws, will you? I've got the head. Ready? Let's go."

* * *

Rumpleteazer was hard at work. Jennyanydots had tended the young tom quickly before going to converse with her fellow Healer. A pillow down from where Teazer mixed the hot mash, Demeter was tenderly bathing the unconscious princess. The tiger queen gritted her teeth and looked back down at her work. The mash – appropriately named due to the informal, slapdash mixing it underwent – was coming nicely. Then again, it wasn't a hard meal to make. The Oldest Inhabitant had once kept a small greenhouse between his property and the sprawling mass of the Junkyard. Now, too old to tend it properly, it had gone wild, allowing those Jellicles among them with a green thumb to coax the more cat-friendly foods into fruitfulness. Each had a small plot who wanted it, and the gnarled old apple tree at an outside corner was everybody's responsibility.

Rumpleteazer wasn't much of a gardener, nor was she much of a cook for that matter; but any fool could make a mash. Oats from Plato's small grain plot were boiled to a mush, mixed with Electra's dandelion roots, marsh mallow, and chamomile. The simple dish was finished off with springs of mint and a pawful of chopped-up apples stored in a crate. Jelly, approaching the middle of her term, donated some of her milk for extra nourishment. As the warm mash bubbled over the fire that Skimble had made in the corner, Rumpleteazer breathed the aroma in deeply and smiled. Maybe there _was_ something to be said for doing well in the kitchen.

Jenny and Jelly were still talking quietly in the corner when the young tom-kit stirred with a groan. Rumpleteazer tamped down the coals and hurried over to the pillow where he sprawled. He was quite adorable for a preteen, a silver tabby with gold and fawn splotched in his mane and longer fur. Deep brown eyes, still fuzzy with disorientation, opened and focused gradually on Teazer.

"Where am I?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

"You's in da Jellicle Junkyard," Teazer replied in what she hoped was a bright but gentle manner. She knew her boisterous nature was sometimes too much for other cats. "Don' worry, ya be safe with us. Jenny an' I been taking care –"

"Mercy. Where's Mercy?" the tom croaked, grasping at her in a panic. "Tell me where my cousin is!"

"Right ova dere," Teazer answered quickly, backing up a little as she pointed. The fanatical light in his eyes made her nervous.

The tom struggled to sit up, still weak from unconsciousness. "Help me!"

Wrinkling her nose at his imperious manner, Teazer helped him crawl over to Demeter and the young princess, Mercy. No sooner had he reached her side than the tom's attitude changed instantly. The bossy moue of his mouth slackened into a pained whimper, and he took the white kitten's face in his paws with extreme care.

"Merce? Mercy, can you here me?" he whispered, eyes darting to take in every detail of her face. He looked up quickly, seeing Demeter for the first time. "You. What are you doing? What's wrong with her?"

Demeter looked up from her task and fixed the tom with a surprisingly direct gaze. "It's not polite to speak to an older queen in that manner, young'un," she said firmly, though Teazer wasn't sure the queen was _that_ much older then the tom. Three or four summers at the most.

The tom's ears flicked back briefly, showing his confusion. "I…"

Demeter sighed, and managed a smile. "I am Demeter. What's your name?"

"I… I'm Victor," the tom stammered, truly puzzled now.

"And how old are you, Victor?"

"Two summers," the tom muttered to his lap. "Please… my cousin. What's wrong with her?"

"Victor," Demeter told him carefully, "your cousin has been very badly treated by a tom – toms, even. Jelly –"

"You mean she's been raped," Victor interrupted flatly.

Taken aback, Demeter glanced down at the still form of the princess and touched one small paw gently. "Yes. Yes Victor, that is what happened."

There was a long silence, broken by a very kittenish sniffle; Victor raised a paw and dragged it unwillingly across his eyes. "Will she be okay?"

Demeter shared a glance with Rumpleteazer. "I'm not really a healer, so I can't tell you. You'll have to ask Jellylorum, our Healer. Here she comes right now."

Jelly and Jennyanydots approached the small group, their faces unreadable. After introducing Victor, Demeter sat back and let Jelly, the more experienced of the two, give the report.

"Victor, your cousin is very badly hurt," she began gently. Although brusque at times, Jelly was very good with kittens, and did her best to be approachable to the silver tom as she spoke. "Jenny and I can't be certain, but we think that at least four mature toms raped Mercy within a relatively short span of time. The cuts she received will heal, and we'll put a few stitches in her forehead, but there's not much we can do with the inside parts that got torn up. With your permission, we'll do our best with herbs and salves, but the only thing that can really put her back together inside is rest. In the end, she may be unable to ever bear kittens. Mentally, I think she'll do fine – you think so too?"

Victor was nodding, attempting a straight face although tears tracked wet furrows in his cheek-fur. "Mercy's tough. She'll be all right."

Jenny smiled. "We thought as much. Now we just have to wait for her to wake up."

Victor looked at his paws again, nervous. "Please… what about my father?"

Jelly, who had moved to cover Mercy with a light blanket, froze. "Your father?" she asked carefully.

"Yes. Mercy's uncle. His name's Shadowheart," Victor explained, trying to hide his discomfort. "He's gray and very big. Please, he's all we've got left since..." he swallowed hard and didn't finish the sentence. "You didn't… you didn't see him, did you?"

Jelly sighed and turned back to face him. "Yes, we did. He was with you when we found you, trying to protect you. He didn't realize that we weren't… the enemy."

Victor still refused to meet their eyes. "Papa… he…"

Before the hesitant tom could continue his tale, the thick curtain at the door was pushed aside and Munkustrap entered, looked a little put out. Seeing the group clustered around Mercy's pillow, he hesitated. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not at all, Guardian," Jelly said with a smile. "I have a feeling you ought to hear this too."

Munkustrap nodded, but remained by the door. "Um… Misto, Tumble, and Alonzo are here. They've got a tom with them, big and gray…" The silver tabby cut himself off as Victor shot off the pillow.

"Papa!" he shouted, and darted for the door.

"Munkus, catch him," Jelly ordered.

The Guardian obeyed quickly, taking the struggling tom into his arms and holding him fast. "What's going on?"

"That gray tom out there is the boy's father," Jelly explained rapidly, preparing a free pillow for the impending patient. As she spoke, the aforementioned trio of toms brought in the unconscious Shadowheart and laid him on a pillow while Victor watched with red-rimmed eyes. "He's also this princess' uncle. The only problem is, he's mentally unstable, and I don't want any kittens near him yet, even if he _is_ the tom's son."

Victor's convulsions slowed until he stood quietly in Munkus' grip. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?" Jelly replied, reverting back to mother-mode. "That he's not right in the head? Victor, it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. He thought we were with Macavity, and anyone in his right mind can smell a Junkyard Jellicle from a cat in the service of that monster. Not to mention he attacked Tumblebrutus, who meant him no harm. It's for your own good, Victor, until we find out what's going on."

The young silver-fawn tom went entirely limp, and Munkus bore him carefully to a pillow beside Mercy. Lying there, Victor rolled over and took his cousin's paw in his. "Papa wasn't always like that," he said quietly. Sensing an important story, everyone fell quiet as the young tom spoke, Jelly's work over Shadowheart a fitting backdrop.

"I was born four summers ago in Dragon Boulevard. I had two sisters, a year older than me – they were already training for Macavity's harem. My father, Shadowheart, was a Hellcat general; my mother was one of Lady Labyrinth's inner circle. Papa had a sister, Heartfeather, and two summers after my birth, Mercy was born. We were raised as Hellions, the kittens who serve Macavity in stealth and espionage. Everything went as normal for a family in our situation, until Papa came back from a mission..."

_Shadowheart entered the room he shared with his family and his sister's family, and found his mate there. Acacia was curled up, resting on a pile of silk sheets, her belly swollen with kits. He approached and nuzzled her, earning a purr rumbling deep in her chest._

_ "You're back early," she murmured, still half-asleep. _

_ "Where's Victor?"_

_ "Playing with Mercy and a couple of the others in the street. Why?"_

_ "'Cacia, we have to leave. Now."_

_ The pregnant queen sat up, alarmed. "What? Why? What's happening?"_

_ Shadowheart paced throughout the jungle-gym space, collecting valuables and necessities. "I disobeyed a direct order. It won't be long until Macavity finds out."_

_ Acacia's ice-blue eyes hardened. "Shad, what have you done? You know that disobeying him means death, or worse! Especially with the moods he's had lately."_

_ "I know, and I'm sorry. But… I just couldn't. She was so helpless, 'Cacia! You have no idea, if only you'd seen her… The worst part of it was she didn't even care. She all but begged me to take her and kill her."_

_ "So General Shadowheart is going soft?" Acacia kneaded the pillows beneath her in anger. "Idiot! Think of Victor, think of the kittens!"_

_ Shadowheart froze. "How many?"_

_ The anger left Acacia's blonde-brown features as she cradled her swollen stomach. "Three. Not long now."_

_ Shadowheart's shoulders slumped. "Beloved, forgive me. I could not do what he asked of me."_

_ Acacia's famed temper left her as she put one hand on his chest. "My love, do not blame yourself. You are not the only one chaffing under Macavity's rule. But think! If we flee, what will be the consequences when we're caught? Even worse should you submit to him now!"_

_ Shadowheart shook his head. "It can't be done. He was most… anxious… to have the deed performed. But I cannot regret it!" He looked about him, seeing the empty nests, and sighed. "Will you come with me? If we leave now, we may never have to return."_

_ Acacia looked down at her blankets. "Beloved, I cannot. I must think of the children."_

_ Her mate spared her one last kiss. "As you wish. Perhaps I will see you again someday." With a bound, he left the platform where she lay and reached the ground. He was halfway to the door when a knock sounded and a voice called out from behind it:_

_ "General Shadowheart, in the name of Macavity I summon you to the Great Audience Chamber. You are hereby under arrest!"_

"That was the last time anyone saw him… ordinary," Victor finished in a voice thick with unshed tears. "Our entire family was arrested, and when Shadowheart refused to back down, Macavity killed every one of them. After that, I'm not sure what happened. All I remember is playing in the tree by myself at evening. Mama hadn't called me in yet, but it was growing later and later. Finally we were getting ready to go inside when Papa found me, shackles still around his wrists. Mercy was with him, unconscious. He brought us here, even though we both had to fight our way from Dragon Boulevard."

The Infirmary was very quiet. Demeter, who held Mercy's other paw, reached out and skimmed Victor's mane with her fingers. "I'm so sorry for what you've gone through," she murmured. "I know what it's like to live under Macavity."

Her words didn't seem to phase Victor. Instead he curled up even closer to his cousin, wrapping one arm around her waist and closing his eyes. Jelly beckoned the others away, and they regrouped near the dying fire.

"We'll want extra sentinel duty for the next few days," Munkus said immediately. "It sounds like Macavity wasn't keen on giving this Shadowheart up."

Jellylorum nodded briskly. "That's your area, Guardian. What I would like to know is, what about mine? I can't keep that tom sedated forever – I don't want to send him into a coma. But it's ten whiskers to one that when he wakes he'll turn my infirmary topsy-turvy."

Munkustrap ruffled his headfur in agitation. "All right – how does this sound? Set up your watches as you like. Try and have one person here all the time. Meanwhile, I'll give you Moonface. For the half-hour he's been a part of our tribe, he's shown a gift for keeping others calm and under control. He's also a good head or two taller than Shadowheart, and looks capable enough to keep him down. What do you say to that?"

Jellylorum pursed her lips briefly, but knew she had no choice. All the youngest and most capable Jellicles would be needed for sentry duty. "Very well. Bring him here, and we'll sort out the particulars."

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**And fin, for now. Tell me if I'm keeping your interest! ;) -DR**


	10. Teen Troubles

I'm really mortified right now D:. Because I'm experiencing this CATS resurgence that happens every now and then, I've already finished another chapter and am working busily on another! Sadly, I know this will probably not continue. However, I will try and update continuously if not frequently (see my profile). Anyway, a hundred thanks to **raptoregg64** for reviewing! It's so nice to know someone's actually reading this after the long delay :P.

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**Chapter Ten**

**Teen Troubles**

The summer days passed slowly, sunk deep in sun and the occasional rainfall. The nights were a blur of movement and play as the Junkyard Jellicles teased, cavorted, and loved away the summer. Bombalurina finally snared Admetus; and, although he still slept with the rest of the Posse in the daylight hours, the two of them often disappeared when dark fell. Munkustrap and Demeter announced their mateship, which was received with great delight, and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer continued their usual tricks. Victor was accepted heartily into the arms of the adolescents and younger "tweeners." Mercy spent much of her time in the Infirmary, silent and stoic as she rested and fought the inner battle against depression. The other new additions to the Junkyard, Moonface and Shadowheart, got on quite well, although the gray tom was never heard to speak to anyone except Victor. As the end of summer's long, lazy hours drew near, nothing more was heard from the Mystery Cat – and, by and large, Junkyard life returned to normal.

For one Jellicle in particular, however, life was anything _but_ normal. Jemima was in a dilemma. The Summer's End Ball was quickly approaching, the last big to-do of the season before the Autumn Equinox. It was one of the few yearly affairs in which Jellicles paired off with a member of the opposite gender, and she was torn between who she wanted to ask her more: Pouncival, whose uncharacteristic charm and _very_ characteristic cheerfulness tugged at her heart; and Victor, whose often standoffish manner was no match for his solemn and mysterious good looks.

Sighing, Jemmi rolled over onto her back, staring up at the darkening sky from the back deck of the Oldest Inhabitant. It was a lovely wooden porch, with ceramic pots overflowing with herbs and flowers, and stone steps leading to the dilapidated little church. A packed dirt path cut across the yard to the overgrown greenhouse. At the glass building's farthest corner, the gnarled apple tree reached like a hunchback for the sky.

"It looks like it's going to rain," she said aloud to herself.

"Really? Do you think so?"

The pre-teen princess jerked upright, startled by the unexpected voice. She peered around at the empty deck, tail lashing, as she tried to find the source of the voice. "Who's there?"

Out popped a brown-and-white face, freckles stretched into a grin, making the tall grass at the edge of the porch sway. Jemima's inquisitive nose poked forward. "Pounce? What are you doing here?"

Glancing about to make sure no humans were around, Pouncival leaped onto the porch and slid with a blur into his Jellicle form. "Hullo, Jemmi. I just came to see what the Oldest Inhabitant was up to." He paused to scratch his nose, eyes following a fly as it buzzed past and disappeared. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Like a bolt of lightening, Jemima had an epiphany. Here was her chance to get a partner for the Summer's End ball. A flash of Bomba-like sass prodded her good-girl heart, and in the blink of an eye, her decision was made.

"Oh… just thinking," she replied. She glanced down at her paws demurely, eyelashes fluttering.

Pouncival was entranced immediately. A preteen "tweener," the patchwork tom was young yet, and little versed in the ways of the other sex. Despite the unschooled nature of Jemima's attempts, he was proving to be an easy conquest. "Thinking about what?" he asked eagerly, sidling a little closer.

As she answered, Jemmi tried for a slightly huskier tone; the older toms always fell all over Bombalurina whenever the red queen used it. "Just the Summer's End ball. I haven't been asked yet, and I was just thinking that – that maybe I wouldn't go this year."

"Aw, Jemmi! You can't do that," her companion protested. He hesitated briefly before continuing, however, feeling a little out of his depth. "Tell you what. If no one asks you in the next few days, you can go with me."

Despite the half-heartedness of the offer, Jemima's little heart soared. Still, she kept herself composed, looking up with a more wide-eyed expression than she normally wore. "Oh Pounce, that's so noble of you. But please don't worry about me – if you have someone else in mind, don't fell like you have to take _me_."

At this, Pouncival felt a surge within him, and he put one paw over hers where they lay at the lip of the deck. "It's no trouble at all, Jemmi. I'd be happy to take you."

Now, she decided, she was safe. The doe-eyed princess flung her arms around him and nuzzled his cheek. "Thanks, Pounce !" she exclaimed, all husky flirtation gone. "You're a real pal."

* * *

The Infirmary was warm and stuffy in the late summer heat, and the sun beating down on it made the interior almost beyond bearing. Leaving Jennyanydots to snore faintly in a corner, Mercy crept out slowly and found a spot in the shade near the entrance. If the Gumbie cat discovered the princess' absence, she could always slip back in and say she was relieving herself.

Not that the good-natured matron was likely to believe her, Mercy reflected glumly. For the past two weeks, Jenny and Jelly had kept a close eye on their charge, going so far as to help her do her business whenever it was needed. The whitish kitten scooted farther back into the shadows, wondering whether to laugh or cry.

Two weeks ago, she had been a happy, carefree kitten, playing with her brothers and sisters and cousins under the watchful eye of the nannies in the Blue Room of 666 Dragon Boulevard. In the space of one day, she had seen her entire family ritually executed in front of her, been raped by five Hellcat toms, and left to die in a hidden corner of the back Yard. That horrible evening was the last thing she remembered before waking up twelve days ago in the Junkyard infirmary. Since then, Mercy had spent all her time there, healing by increments from the wounds she had received. A few nights ago, after her twice-daily examination, Jellylorum had declared with much relief that she should have no problem bearing kittens to full term in the future. Mercy wasn't entirely sure what that entailed; all she knew was that she had been dragged from kitten-hood before her time, and she was not enjoying it.

Across the open square, Mercy watched with chin on knees as a pair of Jellicles danced and tumbled in the refreshing breeze. Most of the others who lived at the Junkyard were lazing about, sleeping or chatting in the shade. These two, however, could not seem to stand still. They looked almost exactly alike: striped from head to toe with black, orange, and white tiger markings, the only difference was the string of pearls around the female's neck. That one was Rumpleteazer, Mercy knew. The young queen spent a lot of time in the Infirmary, especially whenever Moonface was around. Mercy shuddered and buried her face in her arms. That tom had _Hellcat_ written all over him, no matter what he said about being "cast out" by his former employer. Mercy felt sure she would never be able to look a black cat in the face again – except maybe Misto. The tuxedo Conjurer was always kind and playful whenever he brought supplies for the infirmary; but Mercy had noticed a strange melancholy lingering behind the showy magic and infectious laughter. She would have to remember to ask Jenny about it later.

Rumpleteazer suddenly exploded into her signature raucous laughter, and Mercy wrinkled her nose, ears flattening at the sound. Teazer was so friendly, but her unique habits could sometimes get on her nerves. Someone else had noticed it too: a sock came flying from behind an old clock, catching the tiger queen right in the face.

"Croipes! 'Oo threw dat?" Teazer cried, flinging it away from her. Her twin, whose name Mercy didn't know, doubled up laughing as his sister balled up her fists and bounded for the clock.

"Oh no, here she comes!" someone shouted, and suddenly a pile of Jellicles boiled out from behind the clock, scattering in all directions. Mercy recognized Plato, who spent a lot of time helping his mother Jenny in the infirmary, and the princesses Victoria, Jemima, and Electra, but the others' names were lost to her as they escaped Rumpleteazer's wrath.

Mercy let a sigh escape her as she looked down at her paws, locking them around her ankles. With all her heart she wished she could join the others in their play. Age didn't seem to matter here among the youngsters as it did back home – there, the oldest and toughest took charge, and the adults encouraged it. If only she could get clearance from Jelly to leave the infirmary, and live with her cousin and uncle in the free, open Junkyard. Feeling sorry for herself, Mercy laid her head back down on her knees and tried not to cry.

"Hello. You must be Mercy."

The white princess jerked back, terrified, as a lean black tom materialized from the shadows beside her. Seeing her fright, he held out white paws palm-forward, attempting to placate her.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I do not what to hurt you."

Mercy had never heard a Jellicle speak like him before. His words were soft and perfectly formed, without contractions like "didn't," or "don't." Looking closer, she realized he wasn't entirely black: white, tan, and striking orange markings broke up the darker colors into hatching on his body, and his face was kind, if withdrawn. She nodded to show she understood and sat back against the bureau behind her.

"Yes, I'm Mercy. Who're you?"

"They call me Coricopat." The tom's amber eyes glittered briefly, and he smiled. "May I sit?"

She nodded, still wary. He seemed to sense this, for he sat with his back to the square a good foot or two from her crossed legs. "I am surprised to see you outside without a chaperone," he ventured when she remained silent.

"Jenny's sleeping."

He simply nodded. Coricopat's silent acceptance of her brusque responses made her regret her rudeness, and she made an attempt to be friendly. "Do you live here?"

"In the Junkyard? Yes." He gestured with one white paw to one of the many mountains of castoff items that encircled the square. At its peak, a shining metal garabage lid was propped an angle to form a small cave. "I live there, with my sister."

Mercy perked up at this. Maybe she knew his sister, and would therefore have a better idea of who he was. "Who's your sister?"

Coricopat blinked once. "Tantomile. We are twins." His voice was short and tight, and Mercy shut her mouth at once. He turned again to look at her, those amber eyes penetrating. "Enough small talk. I have come to speak with you about a serious matter."

She remained silent, but looked at him questioningly. What "serious matter" could be important enough – or trivial enough – to entrust it to a kitten?

"You are unhappy," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "In fact, I fear you are more than that. Jellylorum and Jennyanydots are kind souls, but their understanding of the mind and the Jellicle soul is limited, as it is with most of us."

Mercy thought she knew what he was getting at. "You're an Empath," she said flatly. She was well acquainted with those. Macavity kept three or four in his service: measly, half-starved creatures with small animal bones in their manes and clumps of fur and bags of crushed leaves hanging from their belts. All ploys to entice their dangerous employer, to convince him that _their_ predictions, _their_ advice, were always right.

Coricopat leaned away from her, nose wrinkling. Her hatred and disgust for the Jellicle "magicians" was so strong it nearly overpowered him. "I am most certainly _not_ one of those creatures. And 'Empath' is a loose term. My sister and I are sorcerers, yes, but our magic comes from within ourselves, not through the casting of bones or the burning of leaves. It is a Gift from the Everlasting Cat."

Reluctantly, Mercy nodded. "All right. Go on."

"As I said, I am not entirely an Empath, but I do have skill in the sensing and deciphering of other's emotions. You might say I read auras. So it is very easy for me to see the confusion and hurt that is boiling under your skin."

He was so matter-of-fact about it that Mercy edged away again, ears twitching in anger. "Well, so what if I am? What do you know about it, anyway?"

Realizing she wasn't going to open up to him that easily, Coricopat stood fluidly and gave her a bow. "More than you know. But if you will take my advice, I will say this: do not keep your feelings inside. If I were you, I would speak to Demeter. I am sure she would be happy to spend time with you."

With those last formal words, the sorcerer-cat nodded and left the way he had come, growing faint until even his shadow was gone.

* * *

The summer day drew slowly to a close, and Mercy eventually returned to the Infirmary. Rumpleteazer gave up chasing the teens and found a patch of cool stone where she lay panting from the heat. Jemima, Electra, Victor, and Pouncival gathered in a giggling mass in the shade of the pipe, poking and prodding one another in an effort to get comfortable for the last snooze of the day.

Victoria, however, did not join them. The fun of the chase had proved only a temporary respite from her problems, and she didn't feel like hanging around her kittenhood friends anymore. Queenhood, she was discovering, was not as simple as she had thought it would be. She was still a princess in many ways. Her ballerina's shape had not altered in any way since the courtship. Her ears were still a little too large for her head, and the inborn innocence of a kitten's Jellicle soul had not yet been totally wiped away. It was true, the dance had rid her of her kittenhood for good, but she often forgot that she was technically no longer a princess. One of the few things that reminded her was the the memory of Admetus' quick change to Bombalurina. It was rare that a princess' Courtship lasted beyond a few nights. Vickie knew that all too well. But that sharp pain in her ribcage whenever she caught sight of him never failed to make her eyes sting a little.

In fact, they were stinging now. The white queen rubbed them harder, trying to force the tears back down before they filled up inside her lids and spilled over. Crying about it wouldn't do any good. At least, that's what she told herself. Allowing herself to cry would only make things worse, especially if someone saw her. Victoria bundled herself further against the inner hub of the lorry tire and took deep breaths to stave off tears.

* * *

It would have been unbearbly hot in the lorry hood except for the breeze that stirred through the openings where the headlights had once been. In a pile of blankets, Demeter snuggled closer to her sleeping mate, relishing the swell and fall of his chest under her cheek. The faint remnants of a purr started up in her throat, though she strove to keep it to a minimum. A truly rumbling purr might wake Munkustrap, and Heaviside knew he needed his sleep. Instead she breathed in deeply, relishing the scent of his silver-white fur, and paused. There was another scent mingling with his, a scent she recognized.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, Demeter detangled herself from Munkus' lax grip and left the blankets. The gaping hole in the corner of the cleared-out hood showed where the metal had once formed a ring to accomdate the axle, snapped off long ago in some violent accident. It was through there that the scent was strongest. She sniffed again, filling her nose with it. _Jellicle… queen… sorrow…_

Deme shook herself, trying to think. It certainly wasn't Bomba. Her alluringly musky fragrance was just another of the red queen's trademarks. This scent was more subtle, and the sorrow was pale gray, somehow… muffled and understated. _Victoria?_ Of course! Reassured, Demeter left the car hood softly and looked about her. There, against one of the rear tires, the white queen was curled into a tight quivering ball.

"Vickie?" Deme whispered. "Are you okay?"

Victoria's heart-shaped appeared, eyes red-rimmed and dripping ears. "Oh, h-hi Deme… did I disturb you?"

"Of course not, sweetheart." The older queen's motherly nature kicked in as she crept to Victoria's side and began grooming her delicate pink ears gently. "What is the matter?"

Victoria looked down at her clasped paws, trying to find a way around the question. "I'm afraid to tell you."

Alarmed, Demeter let her fingers still in their stroking. "You… you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No! No, of course not!" Victoria exclaimed, blushing profusely. "I haven't… been with anyone since the… the Ball."

Demeter had a flash of intuition, and her paws picked up the consoling grooming process once again. "I see. No, don't worry about me." Her voice hardened. "I know quite well that Bomba can be rather… insensitive, sometimes. Please don't think I'm condoning it, but you must understand that she has a rather selfish mindset."

Victoria tried to meet her eyes with a smile. "I've tried not to let it bother me… in fact, it's not entirely Bomba I mind. It's…"

"Admetus," Demeter filled in for her.

"Yes. He was so gentlemanly and suave on the night of the Ball. And it's not that I _didn't_ enjoy the attentions of the others – Alonzo, and Tumblebrutus – but he was… different." The white queen frowned, trying to find the right words. "And yet, after Bomba lashed out at me and started showing him all this attention, it was like he forgot I even existed."

"Oh, Vickie," Deme sighed, taking her into an embrace as the tears returned. "I'm terribly sorry. You know, if I'm any judge of character, he won't be charmed by Bomba for very long. And then, maybe…"

Victoria was already shaking her head. "I already made my decision. He was unfair to me, and if he comes crawling back, I'll let him know: he's too late."

A faint smile stole over Demeter's face. "You're sure? What if he's _really, really_ sorry?"

The white queen wrinkled her nose. "Right now, I feel like slapping him in the face it hurts so much. I guess feelings change."

"You're right, they do. But when you really love a tom, well – _that_ feeling never changes."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Victoria sighed, half-teasing. "And you've been mated, what – three weeks?"

"Something like that," Demeter agreed, laughing. "Come on – it's still a little while until sunset. Why don't you come and nap with me and Munkus?"

Startled by the offer, Victoria's ears swiveled this way and that. "Are… are you sure? What about Munkustrap?"

"He won't mind," Demeter shrugged. "He's sleeping, anyway. Please?"

Victoria had to give in. Shyly – the Guardian of the junkyard seemed to be so much older and wiser than she – the white queen followed her new friend into the lorry and snuggled up in the pile of blankets beside the other two Jellicles.

And so, when Munkus awoke slowly an hour or so later, he was startled to find _two_ feminine shapes curled up with him in slumber.

* * *

**Voila! :) Tell me what you think! By the way, I'm not just a writer; I'm also something of an artist. If you'd like to see what my own characters look like (Mercy, Moonface, etc.) or how I view the original characters (Admetus, Victor, etc.) let me know in a review and I'll put up a link to my blog.**

**Also, concerning "original" characters. Since I've never seen the live show (and each show is a little bit different), I'm going by the video for most characters. However, Admetus and Victor are "swing" characters and do not necessarily appear in the video. (I think "Admetus" is the brown and gray tom who doubles as the Rumpus Cat, but I don't like that version of him :P) "Asparagus Jr." and "Quaxo" make appearances in the next chapter, so I'll just let you know now: in the video, they have a younger version of Asparagus as a swing, since Sir John Mills was too old - that's how I see Asparagus Jr... Quaxo is a variation of Misto, but I'm still working on it. If there's any confusion about anything I've just said, just note me! XD**

**DR**


	11. Eccentric Confusions

Jellicles don't use the term "year." They are very aware of the changing of seasons, of course, but since most Jellicles conceive in the early spring and give birth in the summer, the summer is almost everyone's "birthday" and, as the most important season of the year, holds a kind of reverence among Jellicles.

About mating etc.:

Sexual maturity happens early in Jellicles, and is extended far longer than the human norm. A Jellicle female becomes a queen (Jellicle female of reproductive age) when she hits her first cycle, about three summers of age. The estrus cycle follows the same basic pattern as that of regular felines, except that it does not repeat over the course of the summer. Because Jellicles are a different, "magical" species, queens are capable of conceiving only in the spring to mid-summer (and, as mentioned, usually don't conceive during their first cycle). A queen's cycle ends in the summer if she has not conceived; this is why a queen who has just finished her first cycle dances the Courtship in the Jellicle Ball to celebrate the onset of sexual maturity. For clarification:

MERCY is currently the youngest female (called a princess) in the Junkyard. A late bloomer, she is technically one summer old, making Jelly's guess of two summers old inaccurate in Jellicle terms. However, she was born in the same year (though later: probably in early November) as ELECTRA, ETCETERA, and JEMIMA. They are all about two summers old. At this point in the life cycle, "crushes" may occur on the opposite sex, but sexual maturity has not yet reached fruition. VICTORIA is three summers old as of the Jellicle Ball, and is a queen. DEMETER was an early bloomer, and is four summers old by Jellicle time although she was born in the same year as Vickie. EXOTICA, by comparison, was a late bloomer, and is considered to be two summers old. (That is, say the year is 1997. Deme was born in the spring of 1997, Vickie was born in the late summer of 1997, and Exotica was born in the mid-late fall of 1997.) BOMBALURINA, RUMPLETEAZER, and CASSANDRA are four summers old. Bomba and Cassie, as of now, are playing around with toms and trying to find the right "fit" for a long term mate (see notes on the Jellicle soul below). Rumpleteazer had been similarly distracted by the constant presence of her twin brother (see Tanto). However, her interest in Moonface ought to take an interesting turn in the future. TANTOMILE is five summers old. Her sexual maturity on a mental level was delayed because of her closeness to Coricopat (similar to Rumpleteazer – it is not uncommon for this kind of delay to occur when twins are very close, and their bodies fool their minds into thinking they don't need to look for a mate; however, eventually their brains catch on). The "loneliness" she spoke of earlier is the beginnings of discovering she's ready for a mate. JENNYANYDOTS is nearing the end of sexual vitality, and is perhaps forty summers old. JELLYLORUM is even older, perhaps forty-five summers. Her pregnancy is entirely unexpected and very unusual; however, considering her previous difficulties in conception, it may be that she made some alteration to her natural barrenness with her gift in order to bear Skimbleshanks a kitten. GRIZABELLA, when she ascended to the Heaviside Lair, was a couple years past sexual maturity (in human terms, she'd probably just finished menopause), about fifty summers old.

Toms mature at about four summers of age. For clarification:

VICTOR is currently the youngest male in the Junkyard at two summers old. He was born late, in the middle of the fall, because his mother conceived in the summer; thus, according to Jellicle time, he is one summer younger than Pouncival, though according to our time he is only a couple of months younger. (Confusing, I know!) POUNCIVAL was born three summers prior to this most recent Jellicle Ball – therefore, with the next Ball, he will be sexually mature. MISTO is another late bloomer – he will be four summers old at this year's Halloween (the current year, that is). The rest of the posse as it currently stands – TUMBLEBRUTUS, ADMETUS, PLATO, and ALONZO are all four summers old with some variations as to the exact date. (Jellicles do not keep calendars or track the days apart from Moon Festivals, the Jellicle Ball, and Solstices, which are like special moon festivals. Other celebrations, such as the Summer's End ball in the next chapter, occur at random: whenever the Jellicles decide the weather has changed sufficiently to denote the end of a season.) CORICOPAT, MUNGOJERRIE, the RUM TUM TUGGER, and ASPARAGUS JR. are five summers old, but have no mates as of yet. Cori and Jerrie both have twins (as mentioned above), and so their sexual interest was delayed. The Tugger's "tomfoolery" and immaturity has delayed his own interest in a long-term relationship. Asparagus has simply chosen to wait, for whatever reason; he may also not feel particularly close to any queen in his tribe. MUNKUSRAP is six summers of age. The ages of five and six summers are usually the ones where toms find a mate. MOONFACE and SHADOWHEART are both seven summers old, the former being one of the rare toms who chooses not to mate at five or six summers. In this case, it was because of his immoral habits. Shadow was mated to Acacia and had children by her, but of his immediate family only Victor survived. SKIMBLESHANKS had a mate at five summers old, but she died and he began taking to the rail with his master. Now twenty summers old (about thirty-five human years), he has mated with Jellylorum. This difference in ages is common for middle-aged Jellicles who mate later in life. OLD DEUTERONOMY is, of course, immeasurably old, though it is suspected he has seen nearly seventy summers. Jellicles keep their vitality for a long time, partly because of their feline natures and partly because of their physicality. Cats like BUSTOPHER, about twenty-two summers and perhaps thirty-five to forty human years old, rely on their feline longevity more than physicality. However, the heavier a Jellicle tom is, the less likely he is to feel the inclination to mate, let alone reproduce successfully. For this reason, although Jellicle toms can technically reproduce almost up to the point of being decrepit (GUS SR., about sixty summers old, no longer functions on a reproductive level), many do not when they reach a certain weight. Thus Bustopher Jones is too fat to have kittens, and Old Deuteronomy is too old. This "too old" business was recently reached, since he produced Munkus and the Tugger with his two previous mates (he has outlived over nine "wives").

Unlike non-Jellicle felines, Jellicle toms will not mate until they find the one queen who "connects" with their own soul. The Jellicle soul is very important: it allows them to transform at will from felines to humanoid figures, dictates their personalities and sometimes gives them magic (i.e. Misto, Cori, and Tanto), tells them when certain times of the year are coming (Jellicle Ball, solstices, etc.), and, of course, dictates who their soulmate will be. Soulmates vary in number to accommodate for living too far apart to meet and therefore mate, and also to accommodate for a premature death. Sometimes, though rarely, three souls will come together at the same time, which generally means one tom will have two queens as mates. Two toms sharing a queen is far, far rarer, mostly because toms can get very possessive of their mates and the idea of being in any way affiliated with another tom on a romantic level disgusts them. For this reason, homosexuality or bisexuality is nonexistent in the Jellicle mindset because it goes against the fundamental nature of reproduction: a male and a male, or a female and a female, cannot bear offspring, so being "gay" is an entirely impossible concept to them.

More about the Jellicle soul and music: obviously, there is not a full-piece orchestra hiding in the junk piles around the square. To accommodate for this, I've thought up something a little more "magical." You already know the importance of Jellicle souls, but there is something else that connects all Jellicles when they gather together for a celebration. Kind of like "For where two or more gather in My Name, I am there in their midst" (that's the Bible, folks, Matthew 18:20ish). When a handful or more Jellicles gather together to celebrate life and who they are, their souls unite, creating a beautiful music and allowing their movements to coordinate so as to appear almost pre-choreographed. Of course, everything is spontaneous ;). Also, when one or two Jellicles are together sharing their souls and who they are with others, every Jellicle can hear the music that accompanies their inner selves (for example, when Vickie does the Courtship dance at the Ball, when Griz sings, or for that matter whenever the cats does a solo/duo like Tugger or Jerrie and Teazer).


	12. The Summers' End Ball Part I

Greetings! I hope everyone's enjoying this. This chapter will be broken into two parts (maybe three, depending). I'm also doing this in a slightly different way. It begins with the Summer's End ball, but every once in a while we'll take a break and have flashbacks - a kind of "earlier that day" thing. I'll be sure to mark everything so it's not confusing. If you don't like it, don't worry, I'm only skipping around for this one chapter! :) Thanks for reviewing everyone, please let me know if I need to change something to make it more interesting. This isn't really a traditional fic - there's not a lot of action, just thick juicy character development! :P DR  
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**Chapter Eleven**

**The Summer's End Ball I  
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The night of the Summer's End ball was pleasantly warm, with a fine mist hovering in the air and turning the quarter-moon's edges into an ambiguous haze. Jellicles everywhere were restless, and the Guardian was no exception. Munkustrap struggled with the urge to prowl, tail twitching with suppressed energy as he perched on the tilted hood of the lorry. Whispers and giggles emerged from the space beneath him – Demeter and Victoria were getting ready for the celebration.

Across the square, the young adult toms were also preparing themselves. Plato, serene and unconcerned as usual, kept a watchful eye on Admetus and Alonzo as they primped and argued and occasionally scuffled in the dust at the mouth of Demeter's old pipe. Tumblebrutus ignored their bickering, preferring to rehearse his special acrobatic and tumbling routines. Munkus noticed with some surprise the added presence of Misto. The Posse was notoriously close, and reluctant to admit new members. Nevertheless, there was the Conjuring Cat, contorted into an upside-down slouch at the pipe's mouth as he mumbled under his breath and threw sparkles from his fingertips.

Pouncival, usually a futile hanger-on of the Posse, was nowhere to be seen. Munkus would have worried, but he had heard from Victoria – who often spent the long and lazy daylight hours with him and Demeter in their lair – that the patchwork tom had asked Jemima to the Summer's End ball. No doubt he was getting ready in private, in his own way, in preparation for escorting the pretty young princess to the ball.

Returning to the task at hand, Munkustrap continued to survey the Yard. In the growing shadows of the built-up bed frame, Cassandra preened; Electra and Etcetera combed one another's manes on top of the rusted-out oven. As night continued to spread its damp mantle over the sky, the tiger twins Jerrie and Teazer arrived, chortling to one another over their latest exploit. They soon settled into an impromptu game of tail-chasing, bounding and tumbling all over the Yard.

Subtle as usual, the unattached Asparagus Jr. picked his way over the tire, giving Munkustrap a brief salute before finding a place on the pile of crates that leaned against the cement pipe. Although technically a member of the small but vibrant Theatre Tribe, Asparagus never failed to appear for the more important Junkyard gatherings. He had, after all, spent much of his kittenhood here before his father founded the Theatre Tribe. Following the older cat closely, a small black-and-white kit leaped for the topmost crate and nearly missed. Quaxo, the Theatre Tribe's latest addition, followed Asparagus everywhere; his appearance tonight was hardly a surprise.

The Rum Tum Tugger's arrival was not as distracting as usual. When Cassie moved sinuously over to his side, Etcetera and Electra's brief interest died as quickly as it had come. Munkus smiled to himself, wondering what his half-brother thought of this loss of attention. About to leap down and speak with the egotistical Maine Coon, Munkus forestalled himself as a lithe white Jellicle sat herself down beside him, grinning mysteriously. Munkustrap nuzzled her head briefly, wondering at this latest addition to his home away from home. Victoria had entered his life with Deme as easily as winking. It was getting so that the silver and black tabby was forgetting he had ever _not_ had two queens sharing his blankets in the lorry hood. Yet both of them remained maddeningly silent about Victoria's presence, making him wonder what sort of surprise they were cooking up between them. As if sensing his thoughts, Demeter appeared, exchanged an unfathomable eyebrow-wiggle with Vickie, and settled down on Munk's other side, a purr rumbling deep in her chest.

It was almost time. Munkustrap glanced around the square once more. Alonzo had disappeared. Good. Soon he would reappear with Skimbleshanks, escorting the Jellicle leader. Old Deuteronomy didn't usually come to the Moon Festivals – the trip, he claimed, got longer every month – but he always made a point to attend the more special occasions, lately with an escort. There had been no further tangles with Macavity, but you could never be too careful.

Old Deuteronomy's attendance this night was especially important. The Summer's End ball was not just a celebration of the past season's glory, nor a simple thanksgiving for the beginning of a new yearly quarter. It was all of these things, but it was also a time for learning and storytelling. The prime reason for the Summer's End ball was to pass on knowledge to the next generation, knowledge of the past, present, and sometimes the future. Newcomers would be officially educated in the ways of the tribe, and youngsters would hear tales of bygone days. And this, of course, was why Old Deuteronomy was needed. He alone knew the old stories by heart, and it was he more than any other cat who truly understood the Jellicle soul.

It was all this that Munkustrap was contemplating as the moon took to the sky, and Skimbleshanks and Alonzo escorted Old Deuteronomy into the square.

* * *

Moonface had never met the Jellicle leader. In truth, he was a little bit nervous about becoming known to the ancient Maine Coon. All he had ever known of leaders was that they were to be feared and obeyed without question. Which was why he had done his best to avoid them, and look where that had landed him. An outcast, forever hunted should he set foot outside the high Junkyard fence. It was lucky for him that even Macavity respected the tribal boundary lines – most of the time.

So when Old Deuteronomy entered the square, he hung back, watching from the shadows as the other Jellicles all but mobbed him in their fervor.

A shadow within a shadow materialized at the side of the ex-assassin; Moonface didn't bother to turn his head. "I didn't think you were coming."

Shadowheart grunted. That was usually the extent of his communication. Moonface had not been on naming terms with the gray tom when they had been in the service of Macavity – now, inexplicably, he found they had become inseperable. Calamity and a shared past had brought them together, and now living in unfamiliar territory had kept them so. Moonface watched with interest as Shadowheart's son Victor joined the throng, a grin on his face. That lad had seen a lot of horror for one so young, and despite the laughter in the silver tabby's eyes, Moonface had a feeling that not all would go smoothly for him. Not to mention his cousin, Mercy… Moonface found himself fighting a snarl that tried to twist his lips. He had a pretty good idea who had been involved in her torment, much as he hated the thought. He had had high hopes for those young toms ot break free of Macavity and start their own lives apart from the ginger magician's throttling grip. Apparently, his hopes were unfounded.

In the square, a blur of black, white, and orange rolled giggling past his hiding place, and Moonface ducked his head instinctively. Thank the Rumpus she hadn't seen him. Moonface, once the terror of the back alleys and unspoken master of Macavity's harem, was still at a loss to explain why his heart beat faster at the sight of that freckled face. She was without a doubt the most annoying creature he had ever had the misfortune to behold – and yet. Moonface shook his head and reluctantly slid into the open. Munkustrap had made it plain he was expected, and as much as he hated the stares and whispers, he respected the Junkyard Guardian too much to refuse. A humorless smile stretched across the white quarter-moon that splatted itself like spilled milk across one side of his face. If only he had had the foresight to fake insanity. His mentally ill companion had no social obligations whatever, and Moonface envied him despite Shadowheart's precarious awareness. Ah, well. There was always the possibility of a slow descent into madness. That ought to keep the pointers and starers away.

* * *

Deuteronomy was Old, but not _that_ old. In other words, he moved slowly, yes, he allowed the strapping young toms to escort him like a feeble oldster with one foot in the grave. But really, his eyes were still sharp, his ears and nose as good as ever, and so when Moonface sidled out of the shadows, the Jellicle leader turned towards him immediately and held out his arms.

"Come closer, my son, and tell me about yourself. I have heard plenty of you, but I promise to reserve judgment," he added with a twinkle in his eyes. Old Deuteronomy's three years with the Church Tribe after his last wife died had been enough to pick up a lot of Father Bernard's vernacular. Fortunately, he doubted anyone really minded the fatherly form of address. Not even this dangerous-looking tom, who moved with an uncanny grace through the parted Jellicle onlookers like Moses through the Red Sea.

Moonface allowed Old Deuteronomy to take his paws, and even bowed slightly as the Jellicle leader swept a welcoming nuzzle atop his short black mane. Old Deuteronomy was admittedly surprised, but brushed the unexpected behavior aside. "Come, my son; sit with me, and we will let the festivities begin."

There was a subdued cheer from the tribe, and Munkus, canny creature that he was, accepted the role reversal and allowed Moonface to escort Old Deuteronomy to the tire. When the great patriarch had settled himself, he patted the small pile of boxes piled around the tire for Moonface to sit. The rest of the tribe gathered 'round, waiting to hear their Jellicle leader's address.

* * *

When Old Deuteronomy had first entered the square, Jemima was not as close to him as she would have liked. Being able to see him so often because of their shared attachment to the Oldest Inhabitant, she prided herself on always being one of the first to greet him. As the others crowded around before her, however, she felt a tug on her paw, and suddenly Victor was at her side, a mysterious smile on his attractive face.

"Hullo, Jem! Look, I know it's last minute, but do you have a date to this party thing yet?"

Jemima opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. Her mind worked quickly despite herself, and before the little voice of doubt could grow too loud, she heard herself say, "Oh, no I don't." _Besides_, she told herself, _Pounce said he's go with me only if nobody else asked. He probably only asked out of pity._

"Great! So you'll go with me?"

This time the little voice inside her was entirely quiet, and she was quite happy to tell him, "Yes."

* * *

**Earlier that day...**

Pouncival had spent most of the day preparing. He tagged along with his uncle Bustopher Jones for lunch, garnering advice and eager to learn all he could about being debonair and grown-up. Then he returned home to his humans, escaping little Susie's soppy kisses, and hid in his carpeted cathouse to groom himself.

At precisely eight o'clock in the evening, Pounce set out, butterflies in his stomach and sweet, boyish affection in his heart. He wished he'd thought to bring flowers – ladies loved flowers, Uncle Bustopher had told him – but then again, it was a pretty informal gathering. The Summer's End ball was no Jellicle Ball, after all. Besides, he didn't want to scare Jemmi off on their first outing together by being too affectionate. He hadn't even gotten up the courage to give her the necklace he'd made yet.

He made the trip quickly – quicker than usual, it seemed. Yet when he arrived, Old Deuteronomy had already arrived, and was sitting on the tire with the enigmatic Moonface folded up on the haphazard pile of boxes a little below him. Pouncival scanned the crowd for Jemmi, wondering if she had given up on him.

At first, Pouncival didn't realize that anything had gone wrong with his plans. There she was, the back of her pert head framed by the faintly flowing night sky as Old Deuteronomy addressed the gathering. Then, as he scooted forward to join the crowd, he saw the tom beside her glance down protectively and twine his tail around hers. Pounce blinked a few times, unsure of what his eyes were telling him. It was Victor. Victor had taken Jemmi to the ball.

The freckled young tom was crushed. After all his preparation, hoping, and waiting for the night to arrive, he had been stood up in favor of the young silver tom. Suddenly the night's balmy warmth was lost on him, and the beauty of the stars seemed dim. Without another moment of hesitation, Pouncival turned tail and left for home. It wasn't as though anyone would miss him, anyway – least of all Jemima.

* * *

**Back to the ball...**

Moonface hated being the center of attention, and even though all the others were really listening to Old Deuteronomy, he felt as though the assembled Jellicles were looking at _him_. His skin prickled, and the old familiar ache in his lungs warned of an attack should he exert himself. Not for the first time, Moonface was grateful he had managed to leave Macavity when he had. The ginger tom's stranglehold was getting too oppressive, and the constant missions had not been good for his illness, whatever it was.

The black tom listened with half an ear as the Jellicle leader rambled on about the delights of summer coming to a close and the celebration of a new season, wondering what it was everyone else found so fascinating. He was just wondering whether it was worth it to suppress a yawn or not when he caught sight of a small shadow flitting apart from the group and disappearing. In his line of work, you often had to profile someone based on a mere glimpse, so he was pretty certain of what he had seen: a young tom, perhaps Victor's age, mainly brown and white with perhaps some gray and black thrown in. Moonface racked his brain for a name to pin to the escapee. _Not Tumblebrutus – he's older, sitting right there beside Jennyanydots. Same colors though…_ Pouncival. That was it. _Why would he be leaving so soon? _From what little Moonface knew of the rascally tweener, Pouncival was hardly one to miss out on a celebration like this.

Suddenly, Moonface realized he had his chance to find out. Old Deuteronomy had closed the not-so-brief introduction, and the Summer's End ball had begun. No one was paying him much attention, preferring to find their partners and begin frolicking as soon as possible, but before he could slip off the crates and into the darkness, one paw descended on his shoulder, stopping him short.

"You're excused from dancing this night, my son, but I hope you will take the time to keep an old fogey like me company," Old Deuteronomy invited him, the ever-present smile gracing his kind face.

"Of course, sir," Moonface returned, hopping up to sit at the older tom's side. "If I may ask – what excuses me from the festivities?"

Old Deuteronomy's infectious cheer took on a tinge of gravity. "I have been informed that you are not perfectly well in health, Moonface. Your scrapes have healed, your cracked ribs are whole, the sprain in your tail has almost gone if I am not mistaken – but Healer Jellylorum has informed me of a certain… discrepancy… in your overall wellness."

Moonface bowed his head, noting the oldster's keenness of mind. Feeble as he might appear, he sensed that Old Deuteronomy was no one to be trifled with. "The Healer is correct. For some time I have suffered from an illness of the lungs. I am told it springs from too much time spent in damp areas and an excess of wild living." _Though that's certainly putting it delicately…_

"I see." Was the elderly Maine Coon hiding a smile? "Jellylorum also tells me that too much exercise can set off coughing fits."

"That is also true, though I have been known to cough occasionally when at rest." Moonface parted with the information unwillingly, wondering at the reason for this impromptu interview.

After what seemed an interminable pause, during which the dancing Jellicles cavorted in time to the special music which only they can hear, Old Deuteronomy laid one heavy, fragile paw on Moonface's shoulder. "My son, there is something I would like you to consider. I know you are bound to remain in the Junkyard to prevent attack by Macavity's spies. But I fear that if you do, your illness will bring about much grief. Think about this: we Jellicles are not dependent on human beings for very much except company and more regular meals. I myself, in my old age, appreciate these both very much. But humans can provide much more than that – namely, freedom from illnesses such as yours."

Moonface shrunk away from Old Deuteronomy's touch, struggling to keep the fire in his chest from fighting its way up his throat and out of his mouth. "With respect, sir, I know what you are suggesting, and I cannot agree to it. If I attempt to win a human being over in hopes they will take pity on me, I'll come back healed, yes – but I will also come back gelded, no longer a tom. I cannot accept that."

Old Deuteronomy pressed his lips together. "Humans are often indiscriminate with their cruelty, I cannot ignore that. But if I were you, I would speak with Jellylorum. Her human is the local vet. Ask Munkustrap, Pouncival, Mungojerrie, and the Tugger – they all have humans, but they are whole."

"Are you saying… Jellylorum's human _knows?_"

"About us?" Old Deuteronomy shrugged comfortably. "No one really knows. Jelly can be very secretive when the mood takes her. All I know is that not a single Jellicle tom has come back from her house without any natural parts missing."

* * *

**Earlier that day...**

Mungojerrie usually made it a point to walk past Pouncival's house on his way into town. The tiger-striped tom was rarely apart from his partner in crime, Rumpleteazer, but when he was, he usually took the opportunity to take this different route. Pouncival, although many summers younger than Jerrie, had a similar sense of fun, and he often felt a sense of protection towards the younger tom.

Today was no different. Rumpleteazer had preferred to stay inside at the Chamberlain household and groom herself specially in preparation for the ball that night. Mungojerrie was too nervous to sit around all day, so instead he headed for the main road, stopping by Pouncival's house on the way downtown.

Pouncival was not there. It didn't bother Jerrie unduly, however, and so he simply pressed onward by himself. Gradually the narrow Victorian homes with their little box-front gardens gave way to shops and restaurants – was that Bustopher's tail end sneaking into the side door of _The Siamese_? – and then to entire rows of buildings of various heights and widths that pressed in unison almost to the sidewalk's edge. Mungojerrie was no stranger to the bustling village of Redhill, nor was Redhill a stranger to him. Most locals knew him by sight, and as long as he avoided being seen with Rumpleteazer, it was generally accepted that he would receive a pat on the head or a scratch behind the ear as he strolled down the main road.

Since Pouncival wasn't around, Jerrie reflected, there was only one thing to do. He'd have to find Jabbermongy. He always tried very hard not to let it slip that he had a certain understanding with the police dog. Jabbermongy – known by his master as Ralph – was a massive, good-natured German Shepherd, though perhaps a little fallible when it came to accompanying the village bobby into pubs in the evening. Mungojerrie had made the gruff Pollicle's acquaintance the summer before, when Jabbermongy had caught him in the middle of a solo prank that involved the local pub's best ale and a couple of dead fish. They had made a deal: Mungojerrie would leave the pub alone, and Jabbermongy would turn a blind eye to the misdeeds of him and his sister.

As the months had gone by, Jerrie had come to respect Jabbermongy very deeply for his amiable manner and ability to break up almost any animal fight. From felines to Pekes, Pugs, and even the occasional squirrel, the police dog had a knack for settling arguments – especially the loud ones. No doubt it was because of his massive size. Yet even the larger Pollicles who matched or even outdid him in height and breadth respected Jabbermongy. With good reason, Jerrie thought. The German Shepherd never failed to give excellent advice in all areas. Thus the reason he was seeking him out now.

As usual, he found Jabbermongy laid out in the sun on the front stoop of the Jolly Brickmakers pub. His master didn't usually take him inside on his lunch break, so the German Shepherd laid himself out obligingly for the customers to step over. They rarely minded. However, instead of avoiding the sleeping dog entirely, Mungojerrie crept up boldly and sniffed Jabbermongy's large black nose.

"Ah-_choo!_" The explosive sneeze sent Jerrie hopping backward, fur puffed out along his spine and up his tail. As usual, however, Jabbermongy did nothing else alarming. The police dog knew almost every animal in Redhill by scent, and Jerrie was especially recognizable with the unusual mixture of Junkyard, posh house, and old sweater. Reassured by Jabbermongy's passive gaze, the tiger tom sat back and licked one paw casually.

"What brings you here, small one?"

Jerrie knew by now not to bristle at Jabbermongy's form of address. He called every cat, squirrel, and lapdog "small one" upon greeting. "Nothing drastic," he replied, blinking wide gray eyes innocently. Humans were usually imperceptive enough to notice the soft exchange between the two as they spoke, but seeing a cat and dog together was unusual, so they were both careful to keep mouth movement and volume to a minimum. "I'm in need of some advice."

Jabbermongy turned his head and sniffed his side casually, though both pointed ears were sharply erect in interest. "Advice? What kind?"

Mungojerrie felt as if his next words were being dragged out of him by a hook and line, but he coughed them up reluctantly. "Romantic advice."

Now the police dog was truly interested. Mungojerrie's ears slid back, but the dog disregarded his embarrassment. "Well, I have to say that this is not the kind of advice I often give. However, I am certain merely talking to someone about your… problem… will be beneficial." Jabbermongy licked his front paw studiously. "Now. What exactly is the nature of your difficulty?"

"Probably the same difficulty every other male in the history of the world has suffered," Mungojerrie said glumly. "There's this queen…"

"Name?"

Jerrie gritted his teeth, knowing it would have to come out sooner or later. "Bombalurina."

Jabbermongy laughed out loud at this, a gruff, delighted bark that sent Jerrie skipping back a few paces. The police dog's feathery tail flopped against the cement stoop of the pub as he coaxed his skittish feline friend back. "Dear me, dear me! I am sorry for startling you, my friend," Jabbermongy apologized, restraining himself to a lolling pant. Jerrie crouched down below head-level to avoid his breath.

"Don't mention it. Well, now you know pretty much everything. She's way out of my class." Jerrie sighed down at his clean white forepaws. "But I just can't help hoping…"

"None of us ever can, laddie," Jabbermongy agreed, suddenly serious. Jerrie glanced up in time to see the Shepherd's black nose pointed across the street. As they watched, a female human walked past with a shapely white standard poodle on a leash, her curly-haired tail bouncing gaily in the breeze and a fancy bow set at a jaunty angle around her neck. Jerrie looked back at the police dog, understanding dawning across his freckled face.

"Poola? You and _Poola?_"

Jabbermongy shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Not so far as _she_ knows. Needless to say, lad, I feel your pain."

"I'll say," Mungojerrie murmured under his breath. Poola was pure poodle, bred for the show ring. Even her human name, Penelope, was high-class and sophisticated. Comparing her with the gruff, rough-and-tumble Jabbermongy was like comparing a pristine white rose with a clump of muddy dandelions.

"Well, anyway – back to the matter at hand," the police dog coughed, giving a discreet sniff of his behind. "Bombalurina." He drew the name out luxuriously. "I don't blame you one bit. If I were a Jellicle… well, it doesn't bear thinking about." Jabbermongy shook his head violently as if trying to dispel fleas, but this time Jerrie stayed put. "Well lad, I'll tell you what. This is a difficult problem. Let me think on it, and come back tomorrow. I ought to be here all day, since it's a weekend. By tomorrow, I will be sure to have an answer for you. Until then…" Jabbermongy's sharp gaze faded as though he was seeing the lovely Poola in his mind's eye. "Well, think on it, lad. Maybe together we can come up with something."

Mungojerrie nodded, slightly disappointed but knowing that this was his cue to disperse. "Thank you very much. I'll be sure to find you tomorrow." With a last playful bat at the police dog's nose, he hopped away and trotted back down the street the way he had come.

* * *

**Me again :). What d'you all think of the different organization? Anyway, a few words on Redhill and other things. I did some research on it, and there's more notes below on it, but I don't live there, so hopefully I won't screw anything up. The Jolly Brickmaker's pub does exist, and it has a couple nice wide stoops just about German Shepherd size ;). For more info on Redhill, Surrey, see below. I also included information on Moonface's mysterious "illness," which was inspired in part by Doc Holliday's (Wild West, Wyatt Earp, etc.) DR**

About Redhill, Surrey. According to Wikipedia, it's a mere train ride away from London, England, and many commuters _to_ London pass through here. The nearby town of Reigate combines to make one "urban area." Another interesting fact is the presence of a theatre-cinema-library called the Warwick Quadrant. For my own purposes (i.e. artistic license) I will say that there is a junkyard on the outskirts of town, not far from the dilapidated vicarage where the Oldest Inhabitant lives, and only a couple hundred yards further away from the even more dilapidated church. Back to the actualities of the town… Within the town are several operating churches, one of the oldest and most lovely being the Parish Church of Saint Matthew on Station Street. It is here (artistic license again) that the tribe of Jellicles calling themselves the Parish Tribe lives. Naturally, Asparagus Jr. and his Theatre Tribe make their homes at the Warwick Quadrant.

Moonface has a form of chronic tuberculosis, probably incurred through frequent time spent around waterside brothels where the infection tends to be more prevalent. Although TB is rare in cats, it is not unheard-of, and is probably more likely to occur in strays and felines without humans (who provide the vets, who provide the shots). The origins of his particular disease is probably from the bovine form, ingested through unpasteurized milk. Since he received it in the city, it is highly unlikely that it originated from the type carried by voles, a type of rodent that prefers the wild (unlike rats, mice, etc. who often thrive in cities). Since his past line of work often sent him to "damp areas" near the quaysides of London, the unhealthy atmosphere combined with frequent contact with unhygienic individuals probably contributed to the chronic status of his illness.


	13. The Summer's End Ball Part 2

**So the Summer's End ball comes to a close :).  


* * *

**

**Chapter 13**

**The Summer's End Ball Part II**

The ancient willow was the only tree in the Junkyard. Presiding near the outskirts over discarded automobile tires, tin cans, and broken pieces of plastic, its age and sheer enormity made it a place of awe and respect among the Junkyard Tribe. Being quite close to the square where the jellicles usually gathered, but not oo close, it was the perfect spot for the reclusive Electra. She had been delighted with the unexpected addition of the human boot in the midst of the last Ball. It was now on its side, wedged between two gnarly branches low to the ground, the toe stuffed full of blankets that were made into a cozy nest. A couple of holes were easily stitched up with some help from Jennyanydots, and now it was the perfect little home for the rust and black princess and her companion, Etcetera.

It was here that Electra languished in the moments before the Summer's End moon rose into the sky like a perfect, silvery dish of cream. Her shoulders and head protruded from the boot, and her arms dangled down as she observed the world from her upside-down position. A bat fluttered across the night sky, sending out its little pinging _kree-kree_. _I wonder what bat tastes like…_

"'Lectra?"

The rust-and-black tortie princess shivered inside despite herself. She would have never told anyone, not even Cettie – _especially_ not Cettie – but she was nervous about the Summer's End ball. Still, she rolled over and looked down at the tom who was both her twin and opposite in coloring: the white and rust tortoiseshell, Plato.

"Hello," she said, covering up her shyness with a welcoming purr.

Plato grinned up at her, tail curling comfortably around his ankles. "Coming, Ella-Bella?"

_Darn that tom and his cute nicknames!_ "Sure, Plato-Waito," she answered smarmily, slipping out of the boot and down the willow's rough trunk. In an unrehearsed flurry of movement, they flashed into feline form and raced for the open square, sliding over discarded household items and through the gaping spokes a bicycle wheel before settling unconcernedly near a dented trashcan lid. Plato licked his paw briefly, and sat down in a humanoid blur.

"They're just starting," he commented with satisfaction. Electra smiled to herself. He knew she was often shy around the other cats, and preferred to watch from afar before joining in. As they settled down to watch the quick beginnings of the dance, the trashcan lid was pushed up and the sleek form of Coricopat emerged. He nodded gravely to the couple before sitting a little apart.

"Hi, Cori," Electra ventured after a little while. The sorcerer cat intimidated her a little bit, as he did everyone, but she did want to be kind. It was no secret the pains he was taking to nurse his sister back to health.

Coricopat looked in her direction with unsettling rapidity and nodded. "Hello, Electra. Plato."

The other tom returned the nod. Like his companion, Plato wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Coricopat. Still, he wanted to be friendly. Misto – now a member of the Posse, complete with an official bottle cap – sometimes hinted that the sorcerer tom was struggling to keep his sister grounded in reality.

"Are you taking a queen to the ball?" Plato asked, though he already knew the answer. Coricopat smiled.

"No, I am not, as you well know. But don't let that keep you from joining in. I can keep myself company quite well."

Electra glanced across at her partner. "Perhaps after the dance."

Plato agreed equitably, and so they remained in their sphinx-like poses, Coricopat crouching nearby, as the opening of the Summer's End ball gradually drew to a close. As the final strains drifted through the night air, Plato gave a last wave to the sorcerer cat and slunk down the open square, Electra on his heels. As they reached the ground, however, Plato was bowled aside and Electra nearly trampled.

"Hey, watch it!" the princess yelped as a blur of white and brown sped past her. A couple of the cats gathered around the tire, but their interest lay in the upcoming tales, not the drama at the back of the square. Plato picked himself up and shook off the dust, reaching out a paw to help Electra to her feet.

"That looked like Pounce," she said uncertainly. "What would he be doing rushing off like that? Jemmi told me they were going together…"

Plato looked around, tail twitching. "That might explain it."

She followed his gaze, and her characteristic uncooperative scowl appeared like a thunderhead as she saw Victor nuzzle her peppy friend possessively. "What in the name of Rumpus Cat does she think she's doing?" Electra muttered. Plato was alarmed to see her ears flatten and her tail lash angrily against her legs. Her temper was a legendary thing among the Junkyard jellicles, and he was afraid that if he let it get out of hand, her night would be ruined and she'd regret it later.

"Don't get upset, Ele. I'm sure there's an explanation."

As usual, Plato's resonant voice was inexplicably calming. Still, Electra couldn't help but be annoyed at her friend's desertion of Pouncival. A half-blind Peke could see how he felt about Jemima, and up 'till now, Electra had thought Jemmi felt the same. She shook her head, and then grabbed Plato's hand. "C'mon, let's go find out what's up."

"_Yowch!_"

This time almost everyone turned to look. Plato waved an apologetic paw, and Old Deuteronomy continued with his address. Electra gave him an annoyed stare. "What is it now?"

"I stepped on something sharp. Sorry." He bent down and brushed the dirt carefully with the tips of his fingers. "Hey, take a look at this."

Dangling from his paw was a twisted wire necklace, strung with shiny bottle caps whose paint had been formed into hearts. The wire, though rusted in places, still shone – to a Jellicle, it was a treasure. Enchanted, Electra reached out to finger the smoothed-down edges of the bottle caps. "What is it?"

"So that's where all our official bottle caps went," Plato said dryly. "Admetus always said Pouncival was stealing them."

Electra was not amused. "This explains nothing."

"The Posse, Ele, you know – me, 'Metus, 'Lonzo, Tumble, and Misto. Every official member has to have an official bottle cap. Don't look at me like that, it was Tumble's idea. Anyway, our stash has been slowly depleted over the past couple weeks since the Ball. I'm guessing Pounce stole them to make this…"

"For Jemima!" Electra took the necklace into her hands again as all the pieces fell into place. "What a sweet thing to do. It probably took forever to scrape the paint and braid the wires. Criminey. And she's over there snuggling with Mister Fancy Pants Victor…!"

"Okay, 'Lectra, calm down," Plato said, taking her arms to prevent her from crashing the party and beating her friend to a pulp. "Like I said, there's probably an explanation. A misunderstanding. We both know Jemmi wouldn't hurt a fly – at least, not intentionally."

Electra sighed, sagging in his hold. "I know. I'm sorry Plato. I just can't help getting so _angry_ when people do stuff like this. Mean, cruel things that cause unnecessary pain."

Plato hesitated before replying. Was this an unintentional hint at her past? No one really knew what had driven Electra and Etcetera to the Junkyard nearly a year ago. From far away they had journeyed through the frigid, wet grip of late winter; for what reason, nobody knew for certain. Something, Plato believed, that had left its mark on both of them. Because of it, Etcetera had some kind of mild dysfunction that prevented her from being "all there," and Electra was stiff and unsocial, easily angered, and often retreated to sulk or brood in their makeshift lair. Plato drew one paw over her mane, tickling her velvety ear and making her shake her head to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.

"Stoppit," she snapped, but the purr in her throat belied her tone. Plato grinned inwardly as he nuzzled her outright. 'Lectra really was a softie inside. If he could just get her to show it more often…

"Let's go," he said finally, taking her paws. "You haven't been to a Summer's End ball before – you can't miss this for the world!"

* * *

Squished between Rumpleteazer and Demeter, Victoria leaned forward slightly and tried for a little more wiggle room. It was hopeless. The tiger queen was entirely rapt, all her attention on the story Old Deuteronomy was telling, and she wouldn't budge an inch. Slightly annoyed, the white queen settled back again and glanced at Demeter. The older queen looked poised, as usual, though maybe a little bit nervous, too. Victoria didn't blame her. The news Demeter had to give was probably going to bring the house down.

Vickie glanced up at the sky. The moon still had far to go – dawn was a long way off. Inwardly, she sighed. Story-telling was all well and good, but she preferred to be dancing or play-acting with friends. The Jellicle Ball was so much more exciting. She was just starting to fall back into her old melancholy when Rumpleteazer gave a great jerk and skittered away from Vickie to press against her brother. Suddenly there was plenty of room. Puzzled, Victoria looked up just in time to see Coricopat glide into place beside her. And with him, holding his hands tightly and with a faraway look in her eyes, was Tantomile.

It didn't take long for the Jellicles to notice. The witch cat's long absence had been felt by everyone, especially since it followed that the Twins were no longer in a pair. Cori and Tanto went together like – well, peanut butter and jelly, and seeing one without the other was just unnatural. Now, seeing them back in their accustomed order was distracting. Distracting enough to bring Munkustrap to his feet, going from group to group and quieting the Jellicles as Old Deuteronomy's cadence continued unbroken.

* * *

Coricopat pointedly ignored the stares and whispers of the other Jellicles as he settled in their midst, keeping Tantomile close. She had retreated again into her inward shell, not seeming to register anything that was happening around her, but her lucid words earlier had been explicit: "I want to go to the celebration." Tantomile rarely spoke nowadays, though her connection to the real world was improving, and Coricopat had been intensely startled to hear her voice. Lately, the only communication they had shared was telepathic. The re-cultivation of Tantomile's magic was a long, slow process, but at least he wasn't alone in his own mind anymore.

* * *

Up on the tire, though no longer feeling the center of attention, Moonface was held in thrall as Old Deuteronomy's voice rose and fell in a fascinating cadence, the words coming forth almost without him having to think about it. No doubt the Jellicle Leader had told this tale many a long summer's night in past seasons. Still, Moonface couldn't help but be in awe of Old Deuteronomy's story-telling prowess. The ex-assassin was not accustomed to showing appreciation for anything, but this unlikely skill, he knew, would find admiration even in Macavity's court.

The tale he was telling at the moment was especially interesting to him. It was about the life of Grizabella, and old cat who had recently gone to the Heaviside Lair. The others seemed to know at least parts of her story, for they nodded occasionally, but it was entirely new to him. Though it was a struggle to admit it, Moonface was held in thrall by the tragedy. Rebelling against the Junkyard way of life, Grizabella had sought adventure and romance aboard the legendary vessel of Growltiger, only to be spurned in favor of the stunningly beautiful Persian, Griddlebone. Despairing of returning to her old home, Grizabella had made her way to the back alleys of London. It was here that she fell into the marauding alley cat tribes, whose laws and rules were different from her own, and was eventually forced into prostitution to keep herself alive. At long last, after several miscarriages, she found redemption – albeit delayed redemption – at the hands of the Junkyard jellicles.

Moonface could relate. He knew the alleyways of London as well as any starved, mangy stray looking for easy pickings and immorality. His "assignments" had taken him there many a time, seeking out old foes of his employers. Moonface wondered idly if he had ever happened across this Grizabella. His taste ran more towards young, lush-furred beauties, but a little too much cheap spirits and roasted rat can have a muddling effect on the memory.

The mere thought of London back alleys produced a tickle in his throat, echoed by the feeling of a huge paw encircling his ribs. Moonface swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe rhythmically through his nose. To have a relapse now would cast a shadow over the fine evening, and he didn't want to mar Old Deuteronomy's story in any way.

* * *

Tantomile was more aware than her brother realized. True, there was a barrier between herself and the rest of the tribe; it blanked her face and numbed her brain, until the emptiness buzzed without enough magic to steady her. But certain things called her fledgling magic into a stronger plane, such as the ending of summer, and so she had been able to break through the barrier for a time to speak with her brother. It had faded again, for a little while, but was starting to return. Yet for the life of her, Tanto could not figure out what was calling her magic. The barrier was still too strong…

The witch cat hissed to herself and made a concerted effort. Like a rubber band or a bubblegum bubble, the barrier bent outward, thinning at its center until she was able to send out weak tendrils. Beside her, Coricopat's paw descended over her own, but she jerked away. She had to do this on her own.

The magic was freer now, and moved eagerly to its magnet. Allowing the real world to come into focus, Tantomile's fur rippled in alarm. Why wasn't Cori seeing this? The tom, black as night except for the half-moon suspended across one side of his face, was a mass of glowing orangey threads as her magic was pulled towards him. It was as though she could see inside him, see the sickness that glowed over the fragile flesh of his lungs. Her magic looped itself around his ribs and hung there, whispering. All was not well, this night's end was in shadow…

Tantomile felt as though her body was out of her control. Without putting any weight on Coricopat, she found her feet, and stood erect above the crowd. Old Deuteronomy's voice faltered on the other side of the barrier as her paw lifted and pointed one finger at Moonface.

"Help him." The words were low and smooth, but easily discernable. The entire Yard fell into a hush as they left her mouth. Frustrated at their apathy, she repeated herself, voice shaking. "Help him!"

Coricopat broke the spell of silence as he leapt to his feet. _Ah. Finally, he sees it too._ Down the line, shaking off her mate's worried grip, Jellylorum also stood.

Misto leaped up too, alarmed. "Everlasting Cat, Moonface!" he said, adolescent voice cracking in horror.

It was becoming clear to all of them, even to those without magic. A faint orange glow pulsed from the black cat's chest, threads connecting Tantomile's extended finger to his sick lungs. Somewhere a princess whimpered, and Munkustrap's face mirrored Moonface's distorted features as black paws rose to press a fist against his breastbone.

"I…" Moonface's voice was weak, and the massive paw around his chest gripped even harder, resisting Tantomile's magic. Then, suddenly, the night exploded. Raucous coughs ripped themselves from the black cat's throat; he bent over, and blood spattered dark against the crates below him. Tantomile's threads whipped back to her, and she sagged against her brother. Munkustrap leaped forward, just in time to catch the larger tom as he fell from his perch. They tumbled into the dust at the base of the tire as Jelly and Misto rushed towards them, followed by the rest of the tribe.

"Back! Back, all of you!" Old Deuteronomy ordered, his voice surprisingly strong and deep as it resonated over the racking coughs that sounded below him. "Give him space; stay back if you are not needed."

Plato and Alonzo lingered at the front of the crowd, simultaneously keeping back the spectators and putting themselves at the disposal of the few who gathered around the fallen toms. Munkustrap got to his feet with some difficulty; he sent a comforting glance across the empty space to where Demeter lingered, eyes wide with fright.

"I'm fine," he said brusquely, brushing off Jelly's anxious touch. "Nothing broken." Despite his words, Misto stayed and put a paw on the older tom's shoulder, using his magic to "read" the Guardian's body.

"You'll be fine, incredibly," Mistoffelees said quietly. "I'm not sure how, since he landed almost right on top of you."

As he spoke, Jelly knelt beside the coughing Moonface, trying to see into him with her gift despite the shaking of his body. Bloody spittle stained the dirt in front of his mouth, and his strong arms wrapped themselves around his torso in an effort to still the convulsions. Then, somehow, getting past Plato and Alonzo, a gray shadow appeared. Melting in the half-light at the base of the tire, Shadowheart bent over his friend and placed great gray paws against his back.

"I will carry him wherever he needs to go." The words were simple and direct, as was his gaze; Jelly felt her insides shudder at the perfect sanity contained within them, so unlike his earlier silence. There was no question now about what she must do.

"Follow me, then. We must be quick. Alonzo, Misto, we may need your help." One placating shake of the head stilled Munkustrap's arguments, and the four Jellicles went quickly into the night, Moonface disappearing in the silvery embrace of his friend. As the tribe watched them go the silence lingered among them, and from high up in the gathering clouds, rain began to fall.

* * *

Maggie Brookes lived alone. Redhill's retired veterinarian, she was still held in high esteem by the myriad of grown-up boys and girls who had brought their dogs and cats and fish to her in bygone years. On this particular night she sat at her loom, fumbling in the half-light of an old flickering floor lamp, in an attempt to untangle a knot in the threads of her weft. The loom was a large one, heavy and solid; stretched across its length, a half-finished blanket sat in partial glory, waiting for her patient fingers to find its pattern again.

Above her head, the ceiling rattled with thunder, and the light went out. Muttering under her breath, Ms. Brookes got up and felt her way through the dark room in search of candles. In the pantry she came across several waxen lumps of various shapes and sizes; arms full, she retraced her steps past the front door, and stopped. Outside, over the pounding of the rain, she heard the plaintive cry of a feline.

"Oh Dora," she sighed, setting the candles down. "I thought I brought you in!" Bony fingers turned the handle, and the humidity-swollen door jerked open. In a pool of light on the porch were three cats. Ms. Brookes hesitated. One she knew, an older female the color of ginger with faint calico markings. The other two were strangers to her: both males, one a shadowy gray that seemed to blend in to his surroundings, the other black with white spattered on one side of his face. This latter tom lay on his side, and his rib cage rose and fell rapidly in time with a hoarse wheezing that came from his open mouth. Searching the darkness, the good woman caught sight of two more, younger cats in different patterns of black and white.

"Well. You'd better all come in," she said, standing back. Dora entered at once, tail high. After only a brief moment of hesitation, the black and white toms came forward and darted past into the house. The sick one remained where he was, and the gray tom squatted over him, yellow eyes watching her without blinking. Ms. Brookes bent down slowly, partly because of her arthritis and partly because she didn't want to startle the gray tom.

"Come on now, then," she said softly, putting out a hand to touch the black cat. The gray one bared his teeth in a silent hiss. "Don't you show your fangs to me, mister," she said tartly. "I don't mean your friend any harm, and you know it. Now are you going to let me help him, or would you like to leave him on the porch to die in this storm?"

* * *

Shadowheart didn't speak Human, but he got the general idea. With one last reluctant sniff of Moonface, he slunk past the old woman and joined the other three inside. Jellylorum waited to see that he had entered before leaving the tiled entryway and disappearing into another room. Misto and Alonzo lingered briefly, uneasy, before following. Shadowheart had no choice but to follow.

The human was close on their heels, a bundle of wet black fur in her arms. Shadowheart jumped as the front door slammed. The human laid Moonface on a table, and Shadowheart groaned inside. _How will I be able to see what she's doing?_ Although he hated to do it, he knew he had no choice. With a quick leap he was on a chair; another and he was on the table, eyes wide and tail lashing back and forth nervously. The woman hardly gave him a glance.

"You'd all better come up here too," she said; again, the words were gibberish when spoken aloud, but the Jellicles understood the meaning. Jelly leaped up straight from the floor, quite a feat for a cat of her age. Not to be outdone, Mistoffelees and Alonzo did the same, settling on the far corner of the table. Jellylorum stalked across the shining wooden surface to her mistress and bent down, sniffing Moonface's trembling form.

_What's wrong with him?_ Shadowheart asked softly. The human would hear no more than a meow, but Jellylorum understood.

_I do not know. Wait and see._

Shadowheart growled to himself and settled down into a half-crouch, a pewter kettle with whiskers and a tail, as the human set to work.

* * *

Cats do not like the rain, and Jellicles are no exception. As the first drops landed on Munkustrap's head and began to trickle down his nose, he turned to Old Deuteronomy and raised a questioning paw. The Jellicle Leader, looking suddenly very tired, nodded, and the silver tabby turned back to the solemn tribe.

"Jellicles, come. Let us not turn this night into a night of mourning. If I am not mistaken, the Infirmary is big enough to house all of us; we can continue the ball there."

These words seemed to put life back into the tribe, and soon everyone was moving towards the enormous wardrobe. Jennyanydots, now the matron in charge, bustled about, making sure all the kittens were accounted for and keeping an eye out for stragglers. A flash of white appeared at her elbow, smiling.

"Looking for me?"

"Mercy! There you are." Jenny ruffled her headfur fondly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, ma'am. Do you need me to do anything?"

Jennyanydots surveyed the rapidly-emptying Yard critically. "Could you take Teazer and run ahead, and make sure the Infirmary is all right to take this crowd? It shouldn't be too much for you…" The matron paused and shook her head, smiling. Mercy had already disappeared in search of the female half of the tiger-striped duo.

Rumpleteazer was easy to find. Her signature markings set her apart, and the rope of pearls swung around her neck like a beacon as the queen slipped through the shadows. Mercy tapped her elbow and was rewarded with a muffled shriek as the tiger queen made a small leap of fright. "Croikey! Does ya mind, luv? Ya nearly scared me outa me britches," Teazer announced, trying to flatten the puffed-out fur long her spine. "Whaddaya want?"

"Jenny wants us to go ahead and tidy up the Infirmary," Mercy told her. "You coming?"

"Shore," came the reply, and Mercy was off, racing ahead of the tribe. Rumpleteazer followed more slowly. Mercy didn't know it, but Teazer had been trying to slip away from the others. She knew her assistance could hardly be needed wherever Jelly was taking Moonface, but she couldn't help but feel like she ought to go anyway. A funny ache had started in her ribcage when the black tom had started coughing, and it was building with every second wasted here. _As soon as I'm done here, I can slip out_, she thought to herself. This gave her comfort, and an extra spurt of energy put her ahead of the rest, slipping inside the wardrobe just behind Mercy.

Luckily, Jennyanydots and Jellylorum were both tidy Jellicles, and the Infirmary hardly needed any attention. Mercy gave a small leap to turn on the dangling Christmas lights that provided luminescence even in the dark. The few pillows for critical patients were piled off to one side, and the tamped-down earth was given a few swipes to rid it of debris; then all was ready. Rumpleteazer hurried back to the door, but was foiled again as Victor, Jemima, Etcetera, and the tiny Quaxo burst in, giggling and shaking off rain. Tumblebrutus followed a little more solemnly, and Demeter, Electra, and Plato came next. Soon the Infirmary was filled almost to bursting as the entire tribe found shelter, the fear of earlier slipping away in the warmth and light. The rain beat down outside harder than ever, and a few rumbling whispers of thunder made some of the younger ones duck their heads and puff their tails in fright.

"The Rumpus Cat is abroad!" Victor boomed suddenly, leaping upright before getting pulled down again by his raucous compatriots. Munkustrap's lips twitched, and he spread out his arms over the tribe to quiet them.

"Indeed, the Rumpus Cat is abroad! And all kittens must stay quiet and safe inside their lairs until he passes, or he'll come and eat you up!"

Muffled shrieks of laughter sounded from the adolescent group as his words, but quiet descended again as Victoria stood, a curving pillar of white in the dim light. She bowed her head gracefully to Old Deuteronomy; one fluffy paw extended to where Demeter was curled up with her mate.

"Leader, if I may speak?"

"Of course, little daughter," Old Deuteronomy replied warmly, eyes twinkling. "I have an inkling of what you will say, and I am sure the rest of the tribe is eager to be in on the secret."

In the shadows, Coricopat's ear twitched at these words, but his sister – who had a stronger sense of kept secrets than he – did not stir. After her four words of warning, she had lapsed back into herself; she stared at the floor, unseeing, and Cori turned back to the white queen.

"We have not had any newborns among us for some time," Victoria began. "Our dear Jellylorum and Skimbleshanks are, of course, expecting." The Railway Cat nodded in acknowledgement, his striped features betraying nothing. "But our tribe has more cause to rejoice," Victoria continued mysteriously. "With her permission, I announce the conception of a kitten to our beloved Demeter, and the coming of new life when winter breaks."

An immediate uproar occurred, swelling the Infirmary with sound. Munkustrap's dumbfounded face was cause for much laughter as the Jellicles pressed forward to give their congratulations. In fact, everyone was so delighted and the chatter so loud that no one noticed the disappearance of a certain tiger-striped queen into the stormy night, a small smile on her face.

* * *

Although the rain pounded down hard on the blacktop, Rumpleteazer had little difficulty tracking those who had gone before her. She had always prided herself on having her uncle's famous nose, and Junkyard Jellicle was a very distinctive scent. She darted quickly down the street, trying to stick close under the shrubbery to avoid getting wet. Suddenly an enormous clap of thunder split the night sky, following on the heels of a rapid-fire flash of lightening. Rumpleteazer leaped straight up in alarm and forgot herself, tearing into the night in an attempt to escape an invisible foe. Luckily she gathered herself again in time to catch the scent as it veered off the dirt road and across a lawn. Each blade of grass was a knife rising up from the ground, glistening with wet and shivering like a living thing as the rain lashed down in torrent. Rumpleteazer was now completely soaked, but she reached the porch without any more mishaps.

Once arrived, she hesitated. What should she do? Would the humans here appreciate a strange cat yowling to the night sky. Teazer squatted down in confusion. She wasn't usually the sort to double-guess herself, but for some reason she couldn't think straight. Her fur clung tight to her skin, and her whiskers drooped as lightning ripped apart the night again. More thunder crashed, and above her the porch light flickered once, and went out. She was left alone in the dark, terrified and alone and wishing she had never left the Junkyard at all.

* * *

"What did she do to him?" Shadowheart asked, trying to be polite. Jellylorum, he knew, was no one to be trifled with.

The calico queen looked up from licking herself dry and smiled briefly. "She gave him a sedative that will help him sleep, and then a medicine that will take away the cough. I don't know when he'll be able to return to the Junkyard, but I think he'll be all right now."

Shadowheart nodded slowly. "Can I stay here with him?"

For the first time, Jelly found compassion for this tom welling up inside, and she ceased grooming herself to face him directly. "It's up to you. But remember, my mistress isn't used to keeping more than one or two cats around at a time. You will have to fend for yourself. The protection of the Junkyard is no longer around you, you know."

"You mean Macavity," he said flatly.

She eyed him carefully. "Yes. Who knows what he might do if he catches wind of this."

Shadowheart shook his head roughly. "It doesn't matter. I'll stay here, for as long as it takes."

Jellylorum smiled faintly, approval glinting in her eyes. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, when he wakes up. For now, I suggest you make yourself comfortable. No one's going anywhere while this storm lasts."

* * *

The morning dawned bright and cold – autumn was upon them. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and now the only sound to be heard was the steady _drip drip_ of water and the occasional tentative chirping of early-morning songbirds. The Summer's End ball had broken up with the ending of the rain, Jellicles pairing off and grouping together to return home among the puddles, laughing in low voices. Although many retraced their steps to the heart of the village, others slipped among the cast-off items of the Yard in search of a dry spot to sleep away the day. One of these, silver-gray and blending in nicely with his surroundings, kept low to the ground as he stalked his prey.

Munkustrap prowled through the shadows, eyes fixed on the lithe white form ahead of him. If he had anything to say about it, Vickie wouldn't be getting away with her deception. Too bad he couldn't jump Deme, he reflected wickedly, but her petite cohort would do just as well. A few silent footfalls later, and he materialized beside her, growling deep in his throat.

"So _that's_ what you two were hiding."

To his disappointment, Victoria only grinned mysteriously, entirely un-startled. "Yes, it was. And if you were trying to scare me, you ought to try sneaking downwind."

The silver tabby sighed. "Oh, well. It was worth a try." He hesitated. "How long has she known?"

"Not long," Vickie replied quickly. "She just told me a few days ago. We wouldn't have kept it secret, but the Summer's End ball was so close and she wanted to surprise you."

Munkustrap nodded in understanding. "Before I forget to ask… where are you going?"

"Oh… I don't know. Home, probably," she replied. "Hopefully the cat door's open."

"You aren't coming back to the car with Demeter and I?"

Victoria looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I thought you'd… you know, want to be alone. Together. To… to celebrate, or something."

Munkustrap chuckled. "Well, yes, I was thinking something along those lines. But that's no reason for you to stay behind."

Vickie shrunk down even more, and her voice was small as she replied, "No, it's okay. I don't want to be a third wheel."

There was a heavily laden pause before Munkustrap spoke again, gently. "You aren't, and you never will be, Vickie." He stepped closer, and ducked his head to nuzzle under her chin. To his delight, she responded willingly, tilting her neck and returning the affectionate gesture. A purr thrummed deep in his throat. His arms went around her slowly, and he felt the rapid, birdlike beating of her heart against his cheek.

"What about Demeter?" she whispered, hesitating.

"She spoke to me, earlier," he replied, voice muffled in her shoulder fur. "You're young still, Vickie… I understand if you want to keep looking, but… I would be honored if you would agree to become my Second."

The white queen squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. Not since her Courtship had she felt such happiness, and she couldn't bear to keep it in now. Flinging her arms around his neck in a most un-princess-like manner, she met his mouth her with own and pressed herself against him, eager to finally fulfill the promise of queen-hood.


	14. The Dog Days of Romance

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Dog Days of Romance**

When Demeter woke up, she wasn't entirely sure where she was. Her back, where Victoria usually cuddled in the lorry hood, was chilly, and the tangle of arms and legs before her felt unusually numerous. Slowly her eyes blinked open, and she took in the scene. Munkustrap was stretched out on the blankets, mouth open in a soundless snore. Beneath her paws, his chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of sleep. That was where everything changed.

Asleep on Munkustrap's other shoulder, Victoria was curled into a ball. Her forepaw rested right on top of Demeter's, and her tail was curled demurely around her own ankle. Demeter felt a slow smile creeping across her face, stretching her cheeks and initiating a purr deep in her chest. What a thing to wake up to! A family in the making. Sniffing the air, she judged it to be mid-afternoon – plenty of time to sleep still. A chilly draft entered from the hole in the floor, and she cuddled up closer to her mate and mate-sister. Basking in the sun could wait.

Unfortunately, she was not going to go back to sleep any time soon. She had just pressed her face back into Munkustrap's shoulder fur when a hair-raising yowl split the afternoon apart, sending Demeter flying as the three cats leaped up in alarm. The three of them stared wildly at one another, the hair along their backs erect and every sense pointed towards the source of the noise.

By the time it had ended, however, Munkustrap had slid out of the lorry and disappeared. Demeter smoothed down Victoria's fur gently, soothing the younger queen's shakes before taking her tiny paw. "Come on, we'd better go see what's happened."

The two queens left the hood and scrabbled under the lorry to the open square. Several other Jellicles had gathered there, all of them still carrying the residue of alarm in their wide eyes. At their center, Munkustrap was listening calmly to a frantic Mungojerrie, whose panting words were just barely intelligible.

"It's Teazah, she's missin'! Oi dunno where she is, Oi just woke up and realized she 'adn't come 'ome yet! Blimey Munkus, you gotta 'elp me foind 'er!"

"All right Jerrie, calm down. We'll find her in a heartbeat, don't you worry," Munkustrap said, his deep voice acting like a relaxant among all the Jellicles. "When did you last see her?"

"At – at da ball, Oi thinks. When we all moved into da infirmary."

Munkus cast a weather eye at the sky. It was a light, frivolous gray, shot through with heavier clouds and pierced with the occasional beam of sunlight. It had rained heavily last night, but if it didn't rain today, they might be able to find her by scent. Feeling as though he had been doing this a lot lately, Munkus split the Jellicles present into four groups of two and called for Skimbleshanks.

The Railway Cat appeared in high dudgeon, a permanent vertical line etched between his brows. "Ach, the foolish ninny," he grumbled as he patted down a much-ruffled waistcoat. "Ah'm getting' too ould for this, so I am." Nevertheless, he sniffed around the borders of the Junkyard willingly until he came across a trace of his niece near the southwest border fence. Here the groups paired off, noses to the ground as they slipped through the late afternoon in search of the missing tiger queen.

Back in the Junkyard, Munkustrap checked with Jenny in the Infirmary to prepare in case of injury. He then rejoined Skimble on a firmly lodged microwave at the top of the Yard's southwest corner. The older marmalade tom was squatting there sourly, watching as the near-invisible scouts spread out over the land towards town.

"You know Skimble, you really aren't that old," Munkustrap remarked, a hint of reproof in his voice. "You can't use that excuse quite yet."

Skimbleshanks shrugged noncommittal shoulders. "Maybe so, aye. But 'tis she who's getting' too ould for these tricks. Teazer's a bright gel, and getting' on near five summers. 'Tis high time she settled down wit' a tom and ceased 'er tomfoolery."

Munkustrap stifled a smile. "Somebody got out of the wrong side of the blankets today. Did my message… interrupt you from something?"

"Nah, I'm jest ruffled about somethin'," the older tom replied, managing a small smile. Then he sat bolt upright. "But o' course! Ye've got two queens yerself, may'ap you can 'elp me."

"Getting involved with another queen, are you, you rogue?" the silver tabby teased. "I'm not so sure Jelly will like that!"

"Ah, 'tis not 'ow ye think," Skimble sighed. "I know Jelly certain sure, an' she told me from the get-go she dinnae want any high-falutin' princess comin' in a takin' 'er place. So I been true to 'er, straight as she flies."

Munkustrap squatted down to match the other tom's feline position, feeling a wash of understanding come over him. He had never intended to take a second mate. It was quite rare among Jellicles, and usually only occurred in a case of two sibling wishing to mate with the same tom. But somehow, against his will, the shy and demure Victoria had attracted him, not to the lessening of his love for Demeter, but shaping and enhancing it. Tradition said that Demeter, as his First, had precedence over Victoria; but in his heart, he loved them both equally. Now it seemed that Skimbleshanks was in the same quandary, only twofold. Demeter and Victoria were dear friends, and bore no grudge against one another despite sharing the same tom. But Jellylorum, as well as being strong-willed and often brusque-tempered, had a sharp mind and a solitary spirit. She was fiercely devoted to Skimbleshanks as her one and only mate, and would no doubt feel ousted and possibly betrayed by the appearance of her mate's wandering affections.

"Who is she, Skimble?"

The Railway Cat stared miserably over the now-empty landscape. "I cannae tell ye."

"Let me guess, then," the guardian suggested, settling down to his strategy with a satisfied wiggle of the haunches. "Is she younger than Jellylorum?"

"…Aye."

"But older than… oh, say Cassandra."

"Aye."

"Certainly not Tantomile, I should think…"

Skimble gave him an alarmed look. "Honest to goodness, Munkus, d'ye have any sense o' decency at all?"

The silver tabby grinned. "Ah, so it must be Jenny then, mustn't it?"

Skimbleshanks glared at his front paws. "Couldnae be anyone else, could et?"

"No, I suppose not." Munkus prodded the older tom with his tail-tip. "But what's your worry? They are quite close friends, are they not? And Jenny's hardly _that_ much younger – no spring chicken, certainly."

Skimble huffed to himself quietly. "Well now, neither am I, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're in your prime," Munkus replied stoutly. "Jelly's pregnancy is proof of that. To be honest, I don't really see the problem."

He sighed patiently. "The problem, my wee friend, is that Jelly isna so keen on me takin' another mate. An' I dinnae even know if Jenny fancies me! 'Tis only a small, secret idea I've been nursin' quietly. I dinnae want to make a fuss."

Munkustrap couldn't think of anything to say. He knew the older tom would merely shake off any empty reassurances, so he simply got comfortable on the rusted microwave top and watched the morning break over the Junkyard, Skimble wordless at his side.

* * *

The Rum Tum Tugger was not accustomed to waking up alone. Since the Jellicle Ball, he had had the pleasure of sharing his unusual Junkyard berth with the sinuous brown Abyssinian, Cassandra. But today as he woke, stretching the kinks out of his shoulders, he noticed a particular chill in the air that told him Cassie wasn't there. Tugger rolled over, feeling the blankets with languorous paws. They were still warm, as though his companion had only just left. The Maine Coon shook the last vestiges of sleep from his brain, and poked his head out into the cold.

"Yowp!" He darted back inside quickly, and burrowed his head back into the blankets. They had picked the perfect time for the Summer's End ball… it was _cold_ outside! Reluctantly, Tugger lifted his head again and snuck one eyeball to the crack of the cupboards. The day was cold and yellow, with funny wisps of clouds muffling the sunlight and making the sky look like watered-down milk.

Tugger shook himself bracingly and slid fully into the chilly summer afternoon, muffling curses. Where had that blasted queen got to? Although the Tugger was not especially keen of sight for a Jellicle, he did manage to catch a glimpse of a brown tail disappearing into the pipe. Grinning craftily to himself, he climbed stealthily up the bed-frame and bounded across the top of the Square, barely making any sound as he made for the other side of the junk pile that kept out anything bigger than a small Pollicle. It was their fortress against humans and exterminators, and only those of small stature were able to penetrate it. Below, through gaps in the castoff items, the gray cement pipe meandered through the Junkyard towards town. Occasionally, where the cement had cracked enough to reveal the interior, Tugger caught a glimpse of brown that widened his grin and sent prickles down his tail. Giving Cassie a good scare should be the right sort of payback for leaving him to shiver awake in this blasted cold weather.

The pipe petered out at the edge of the junkyard, the cement poking through the chain-link fence before ending in a mucky drainage ditch. The Tugger was sleek and quick despite his voluminous mane; a flying leap catapulted him off the fence and onto the pipe lip, head down in time to catch the slender brown queen just as she was preparing to jump the ditch.

"Meep!" The exclamation wasn't a coherent word, just a muffled squeak. Tugger's mischievous grin collapsed as he looked straight into a dark brown face that didn't belong to Cassie.

"Who are you?" he said automatically, not stopping to think. Come to think of it, she did look a tad familiar…

"I-I-I-I'm Ex-xotic-ca," came the reply. The young queen's stammering threw him off yet again, and the Rum Tum Tugger hesitated. He might not be like his half-brother Munkustrap, walking around like a stick was up his behind, but he didn't want to alarm the creature any more than he already had. So, double-checking to make sure no one was around to see, the Maine Coon hopped the ditch and held out his paw with his most courteous flair.

"I'm sorry for startling you, miss Exotica, I mistook you for someone else."

Coffee-brown eyes stared straight back at him, oddly unafraid despite the stuttering and cracking of her soft voice. "Let m-me g-g-guess: Ca-Cass-Cassandra-a?" She accepted his hand and leaped lightly over, but pulled back as soon as her feet were on dry ground as though his paw was on fire. "D-d-don't worry ab-bout it. If y-y-y-you're l-looking for Cassie, she-she headed f-for her h-h-house a f-few minutes ago."

Tugger paused again, uncertain. "You know where she lives?"

Exotica shrugged, shy but straightforward. "I kn-know where e-e-every J-Jellicle l-lives. M-Munkustrap d-d-does not kn-know, b-but I c-consider my-myself a sentinel. Wh-when th-there is n-n-no one to take the y-younger ones h-h-home, I f-follow to m-m-make sure they g-get th-there safely. Wh-when T-Tantomile was re-rescued from M-M-Macavity, I sh-shadowed al-most everyone, j-j-just in c-case."

"Oh." _Oh? What kind of suave, Tugger response is that?_ The Rum Tum Tugger shook his head briefly, trying to get back into himself. "If you don't mind my saying, so, doll, you don't look like you could put up much of a fight," he drawled. _Much better._ But his newly-returned panache and self-esteem faltered as the look in Exotica's eyes changed from semi-assured to confused and hurt. _If I could offend her with just one innocent observation, then she needs to build up the confidence_.

"S-sometimes one m-m-more s-set of claws is all y-you need," she answered quietly. "And haven't you heard? Rumpleteazer's gone missing, and Munkus is taking no chances. If you'll e-excuse me, I'll go offer my assistance t-t-to the searchers." Easy as jumping a leaf, the coffee-brown Burmese slid into feline form and turned away.

"Hey, wait!"

She stopped, facing away from him as her tail twitched impatiently.

"Do you… want an escort, or something?"

Exotica turned back to look at him, her cat's face unreadable as she answered him in feral-speak. _"I can take care of myself. Can you?"_ Not waiting for a reply, she turned away again and trotted lightly across the street, tail high and ears forward in full cold-shoulder mode.

Tugger frowned to himself, folding his arms in front of his chest. "That is one rude lady. Now, I wonder where Cassie's got to?"

* * *

Rumpleteazer was sitting on a fencepost outside Jelly's residence, licking her shoulder, when Exotica found her. Something in Teazer's manner told her that she probably wouldn't welcome a lot of attention from the searchers, so instead of spreading the word, Exotica leaped up to a nearby fencepost and examined her paws idly. She didn't have to the wait long – the impulsive tiger queen wasn't a patient sort of Jellicle.

"Wat does ya want, then?"

Exotica turned her large, slow-blinking eyes toward her as though her grooming had been rudely interrupted. "Did you kn-know, Rumplet-teazer, that the wh-whole Y-y-yard is looking for y-you?"

Teazer snorted briefly, tail flicking in an irritated quiver. "Started by moi foolish brother, roight? Wanker."

Exotica's nose quivered at the brief and careless cuss word. "Y-yes – and g-g-good reason he had, t-too. D-don't y-you remem-ember what happened to T-Tantomile?"

"Oi c'n take care o' moiself," Rumpleteazer said jerkily. "Oi doan't need the 'ole Junkyard out on moi tail."

Exotica frowned, irritated at Teazer's manner. "Well you'd b-better get used t-o it, b-because they are right now, and th-they a-aren't going to st-top until they f-f-find you."

Startled by Exotica's outburst, the tiger queen glanced at her nervously. She knew Exotica a little bit from around town and occasionally the Junkyard, but she had never known her to be so demonstrative. But stammer or not, the Burmese was calling her out, and she left her post to bear down on Teazer slowly but determinedly. "Wh-why do you ins-ist on scaring everyone, anyway? D-don't you kn-know your brother loves you? Wh-what else would you exp-pect him to do but raise a hue and cry?" Exotica stuck her nose right in Teazer's face and widened her eyes in expectation. "Well?"

Despite her surprise, Teazer gave as good as she got. "'Ow would ya like a brother hangin' on ya loike a limpet all da toime? An' everyone expects ya ta be t'gether every minute of every blinkin' day, so as ya never gets a minute ta yerself? An' even when ya find yourself over da bloody moon for someone, ya never get a chance t' spend any toime with 'im, or anyone else for dat matter." The rage left her suddenly, and Rumpleteazer turned her face away from Exotica, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Oi'm sorry, 'Xotti – Oi dunno what's come over me. Oi feels so strangely, laitely." She dragged an uncertain paw over one ear, apologetic. "Oi can't stand t' be around Jerrie no more, an' when Oi try an' be normal-loike, it just… rubs me da wrong way."

Exotica sat back on the narrow fence, shifting her backside uncomfortably. "Oi – er, _I_ kn-know what you m-m-mean, I th-think."

Teazer lifted her head delightedly. "Ya do?"

She nodded slowly, but her eyes were quick to finally note their location. "This is where J-Jelly and her hu-human live, i-isn't it?"

Rumpleteazer's manner changed automatically. "Oi thinks so, aye," she replied guardedly.

"Th-that's curious," the Burmese noted quietly. "I w-wonder how M-Moonface is d-d-doing."

Rumpleteazer let her eyes drift out above the housetops that lined the other side of the road. "Oi doan't know, but Oi wish Oi did," she murmured to herself.

* * *

Rumpleteazer didn't know how Moonface was doing, but Jelly certainly did. The rainstorm had been so vicious the night before that Misto, Alonzo, and Shadowheart had stayed the night. The younger toms were curled up on a couch, asleep – the elder had escaped to the back porch as soon as possible, and was snoozing in a checkerboard pattern of sun beneath the back steps. Jellylorum, however, was keeping watch over her human's patient, occasionally checking his heartbeat and the rasp of his breathing.

Moonface was dead asleep in the cat-bed Jelly usually slept in during the day. His back was curved against the wicker frame, and his nose was tucked into his paws as if to hide out the light. He was almost too big for the basket – his back legs were flush against the opposite side, and one hind paw poked out of the opening – but Jelly noticed that he wasn't the hulking monster he had been. And it wasn't due to the illness, either. She had sharp eyes, and she had noticed Moonface's conscious effort to reshape himself. He had begun unusual exercises where most Jellicles wouldn't see him, transforming him from a broad giant to a lanky, long-limbed tree. She'd seen him watch Tumblebrutus covertly when the calico tom went through his routines, and later copy the gymnast's smooth movements. Moonface almost didn't look like a Hellcat anymore. More importantly, his body was in excellent shape and relatively healthy, which would make his recovery much easier.

It was nearly time for supper before Jelly bothered to look outside the window and see Rumpleteazer and Exotica sitting on the fence. They were both still as statues, the sunset creating a rosy late-summer glow around the edges of their silhouettes. The butter calico matron squatted on the broad window ledge and pricked her ears forward, alert and wondering what would happen.

She was so alert, in fact, that she missed the movements that began in the basket. Moonface had slept half the night and almost the entire day, and now his body was ready to wake up. First he stretched, the wicker basket creaking as his lengthy frame extended. Then, shaking his head awake and seeing the quiet comfort that pervaded the entire house, he stood carefully and made a cautious hop out of the basket.

Jelly heard the thump, and her head swiveled sharply in time to see Moonface sink down to his haunches, quivering. She bit back the impatience rising inside her, and quickly made her way over to the enormous tom.

"You should not be up, sir," she informed him tartly. "The medicine you were given will have made you extremely weak. You must return to your usual antics slowly, or else all the work that has been done on you will be for nothing."

Almost any other Jellicle, when faced with an irritated Jellylorum, would cower in submission. Moonface, however, merely blinked once. "Madam, I can feel the sluggishness in my body, but I believe that sitting around will only enhance it. Please allow me to walk about the house and get some strength back into me."

His formal address and inescapable logic forced Jelly to agree. "Very well – but only if Alonzo accompanies you."

On the couch, the catnapping guardian snapped awake at the sound of his name. His cheek fur on one side was pushed flat from sleep, giving him a lopsided appearance. "Wha…? Did someone say my name?"

Misto, who had been awake and merely resting, sighed dramatically without looking up. "Yes, you undignified furball. C'mon, the injured party needs our assistance."

* * *

Moonface was having a hard time keeping a straight face as he meandered through the rooms of the small house with his boyish compatriots. Misto and Alonzo were certainly a pair of cards. Misto, a seemingly serene and aloof young teen, had a dry wit as sharp as a razor that kept catching the older tom off guard. Meanwhile, Alonzo's silly humor and kittenish pranks played off Misto's sarcasm, so that Moonface had trouble staying on his toes.

Feeling a headache beginning to buzz behind his eyes, Moonface allowed his mind to drift from the conversation. His chest still felt a little sore, but he knew something was different. The threat of that fist that sometimes squeezed his ribs until he couldn't breathe had nearly disappeared. Whatever Jelly's human had done, it was curing him of his illness.

The thought of being free to run as far and fast as wanted against sent a jolt of energy crackling through his limbs, and on impulse, the black tom made a fantastic leap over Alonzo's head and onto the windowsill. Although his heart jumped in its rhythm to keep up with his sudden exertion, the black and white of his face split into a glittering grin of triumph, and his tail-tip twitched madly. More than ever since falling in with Macavity, he felt like himself.

Looking out on the damp, chilly day, his heart gave another little half-leap, and Moonface's smile faded as his ears slid back uncertainly. Bordering the old lady's front yard was a neat white fence. Perched with perfect balance on two of the fence-posts sat a pair of young queens; one was unknown to him, but the other was entirely familiar. A blur of orange-black and white, her tail skittering anxiously against the fencepost, was Rumpleteazer.

"Great Rumpus, you move fast!" Alonzo said right into his ear. Moonface jerked in alarm, hair bristling down his spine. "Sorry mate, it's just me."

Too embarrassed to reply, Moonface grunted noncommittally and turned his back on the window. "I think I'm ready to sleep some more now."

Unbeknownst to him, the younger toms exchanged a confused look over his back before slinking back down to where the others were gathered in the sitting-room.

* * *

Tumblebrutus woke up abruptly, head jerking up from the mismatched pile of fur. The Posse's lair was not very temperature-proof, and he immediately wished he could duck back down and burrow in the blankets with the other toms. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Today was his day to get supplies – Jenny had mentioned the larder was getting low – and cold or no cold, it was his duty to make the rounds about town in search of edibles. The tribe got most of its odds and ends from the Junkyard itself, everything from pretty trinkets to old nails to hold together personal hidey-holes; however, the cats who lived full-time at the Junkyard had to provide themselves with sustenance from other places. Usually Misto made the rounds, since he could contact others speedily with his magic or even transport things himself. However, Tumblebrutus had volunteered to give the magician the day off, and now he had slept late. He would have to hurry if he wanted to be back to the Square in time for the night's fun.

The sun was nearing the horizon as Tumblebrutus set out, trotting in four-legged form down Junkyard Alley. The Yard was tucked away in an overgrown corner of Redhill; residents barely remembered there was even anything there. However, occasionally someone would drive up to the Junkyard gates with a ragged couch, a couple of flat tires, or pieces of rusty machinery that would soon be fodder for all sorts of creative projects. The patched calico reflected that perhaps the Posse ought to get started on some repairs if they wanted their makeshift lair to be weatherproof in time for the autumn rains.

Tumblebrutus continued into town, making for the house of a good friend. Although he would never admit it to Admetus or Alonzo, Tumble had a soft spot for the goofy Pouncival, and he tried to be nice to him – at least, nicer than the others were. Pounce was a summer younger than the rest of them, and had always been good fodder for teasing or roughing up in sport. But there was a part of Tumblebrutus that resented bullying and cruelty even on a tweener level, born from the rough-and-tumble life he had endured on the streets as an orphan, and so he sometimes went out of his way to be Pouncival's protector.

As he trotted down the street, Tumble reflected that he hadn't seen Pouncival around the Yard for a few days. Not since the Summer's End Ball, in fact. Now that had been an unusual night. What with Moonface getting rushed off to Jelly's home, Teazer briefly disappearing before showing up again, and Jemima getting all cozy with Victor, things had been quite topsy-turvy in the Yard lately.

"I wonder if Pounce knows what's been going on," Tumble muttered aloud, pausing at the corner of Magnolia and Crescent before dashing across the street.

Just a few houses down was a kindly old Victorian house, built in the days when Redhill was still young. It was squeezed between two more modern homes, and its white-and-slate façade barely peeked out from its fringe of centuries-old oak and sycamore. Regardless, it was familiar to Tumble. With hardly a pause, he moved briskly through the tangled front-porch-hugging shrubbery and slipped under the deck, where a small hole provided access to the basement.

Just beneath the porch, he paused. The smell of wet earth clung heavily to his nostrils, and he sneezed a few times to get rid of it. His ears pricked, and his whiskers fanned forward to catch every brush and tickle that came near.

The signs were obvious. The under-porch smelled almost completely deserted. It was Pounce's favorite place to lurk when he tired of his seven-year-old mistress' constant affections, and his number-one escape route when his humans forgot to put him out at night. But as far as Tumblebrutus could tell, the tweener hadn't been here in a while – maybe not even since the Ball.

_Did I even see him at the Ball?_ he wondered to himself. _It was all such a blur._

Now more determined than ever to find his friend, Tumble nudged his way between a loose chunk of fieldstone and the rotted molding of a forgotten window. Just inside, he slid his front paws down the wall and made the leap to the floor five feet down.

Pouncival's scent was thick in the air, and Tumble had no trouble finding him. Under the stairs, several cardboard boxes were jumbled together, filled with the family's hand-me-downs and forgotten storage. Inside one, a hole had been chewed to reveal old shirts and sweaters. A tell-tale whisker peeked out, accompanied by one glowing eye.

Tumble stayed crouched on the ground, the hair on his spine prickling nervously. "Cut it out Pounce, you're freaking me out. Why don't you come outside, and we'll go for a walk?"

The eye blinked once, and closed. "Don't wanna."

_That's more like it_. With a fluid leap, Tumble made it to the narrow lip of the cardboard box and squeezed himself into the tiny space beside his friend. "Heyup. Scooch over, would ya?"

Pouncival, disgruntled at the sudden invasion of his space, obeyed. With a satisfied grunt, Tumble settled himself into the blankets and met his friend's eyes squarely. "What's going on?"

The younger tom looked away moodily, kneading the blankets with his claws. "It's Jemima and Victor."

That was all it took. Tumblebrutus bared his teeth in an almost-snarl, letting antagonistic chills run down his spine to ruffle his fur. "Bloody upstart. I knew something was up with him and Jemmi at the Ball. What happened?"

"I invited her to go to the ball with me last week. I was working on a special present for her to show her how I feel – a necklace."

_The bottle caps_, Tumble thought, but refrained from speaking aloud. He merely nudged his young friend gently, reminding him to continue.

"Anyway, I got there a little late, and then Jemmi was with Victor, so I left the necklace on the ground and went back home. I don't feel like seeing either of them around the Junkyard right now." To the older, street-hardened tom's embarrassment, a single tear slid down Pouncival's nose and faded quickly into the ragged quilts. The tweener buried his head between his paws and turned away from his friend. "I just wanna be alone."

Tumble got up and nudged Pouncival's head with his nose. "That's okay, bud. You come back when you're ready."

He was almost to the window when he heard his name being called. He did an about-face on the windowsill, ready to jump back down if he had to.

"Can you do something for me, Tumble?"

"Of course."

"Get that necklace, and make sure Jemmi never finds it."

Sadly, Tumble acquiesced. "I'll do it. See you around, Pounce."

There was no reply.


End file.
